,^  I 


MINIVERS'/A 


%  I 


^KAUFQ^ 

§ 


i     1 


inc  Aitrci  r« 


i  3 


;£  ^ 
33  o 
£?  "^ 


6      t 

1  s 


S  1 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 

A  Byzantine  Legend 
By 

Percy  Stickney  Grant 


New  York 

BRENTANO'S 

MCMVIII 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 
PERCY  STICKNEY  GRANT 


Arranged  and  Printed  at 

The  CHELTENHAM  Prest 

New  York 


10 
THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  FATHER 

STEPHEN  MASON  GRANT 


Endurance  is  the  crowning  quality, 
And  patience  all  the  passion  of  great  hearts. 

LOWELL. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 

PRELUDE 


Behold  that  splendid  city  of  the  East, 
The  glory  of  the  Emperor  Constantine, 
When  Rome's  long,  civil  leadership  had  ceased 
And  on  her  hills,  the  home  of  Caesar's  line, 
Mid  mouldering  palaces  and  gods  supine, 
Men  meanly  crept:  when  kings,  in  that  soft  nest 
Upon  the  Bosphorus,  O  sad  decline! 
Obeyed  like  Persians,  and  like  Persians  dressed, 
Had    reigned    two    centuries; — 'twas    then    befell    this 
quest. 


II 

Fain  would  one  linger  in  that  pleasant  spot, 

Ere  he  embark  on  wanderings  far  and  wide. 

A  city  out  of  regal  ruins  got, 

Where  precious  gems,  to  our  poor  kings  denied, 

With  gold  and  silver  in  base  labor  vied. 

O  close  my  eyes  to  such  magnificence! 

Lest  from  my  course  I,  loitering,  turn  aside, 

And  marvels  mused  upon,  bewilder  sense, 

Her  silver-filtered  hymns  and  Eastern  opulence. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


III 

Hail  mighty  monarch,  sage  Justinian, 

Forever  of  blind  lovers  rightful  king! 

For  deep  you  dived  as  fishers  in  Oman, 

Who,  dazed,  to  dazzling  daylight  pearl  shells  bring. 

Of  Theodora—     Ah!  I  cannot  sing. 

The  queen-enchantress  of  the  East  was  she, 

To  whom  all  lands  sent  costly  offering: 

A  heathen  goddess,  scorning  Rome's  decree, 

Surviving  Christian  shock,  still  claiming  fealty. 


IV 

Like  Bacchus'  Ariadne  she  used  go, 
Along  Ionian  cities  and  the  South. 
Intolerable  joys  could  she  bestow, 
Leader  of  revels,  while  the  frenzied  youth 
Crowded  her  progress.     As  for  love,  forsooth, 
She  gave  none,  but  a  madness  could  inspire, 
Whose  end  was  death,  or  bitter  cure  the  truth. 
At  last  her  sated  passions  mounting  higher, 
World-rule  from  Rome's  proud  throne  became  her  one 
desire. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


Yet  this  love-witch  her  philters  threw  aside 

Before  his  eyes  that  seemed  her  soul  to  see; 

And  Venus  she  no  longer  with  prayers  plied, 

Fair  Cyprian,  inflamed  with  hate  was  she. 

But,  sinuous  in  her  serpent  subtlety 

To  harm  the  man  of  whom  my  verses  tell, 

By  blandished  falsehood  and  deft  sophistry, 

Justinian,  docile  in  her  amorous  spell, 

She  led  to  crush  his  friend,  his  empire's  citadel. 


VI 

An  equal  rule  the  royal  lovers  held. 

What  is  too  rich  or  reverend  for  love's  gift? 

Wise  Solomon  the  sacred  cedars  felled, 

For  altars  whence  his  heathen  wives  could  lift 

Warm  prayers  to  Astaroth.     O  impious  rift! 

Great  Alexander,  so  well  taught,  could  err; 

Mark  Antony  flee  battle  coward-swift. 

Yes,  senators  may  frown,  dames  may  demur; 

But  laws  must  bend  and  break  when  love  is  arbiter. 


The  Search  of  BeUsarius 


VII 

Born  like  the  Queen  of  shameless  circus  brood, 
Child  of  an  actress  and  a  charioteer, 
Was  she  who  closest  Theodora  stood 
In  favor  and  in  power, — and  I,  fear, 
In  imitated  vice  none  came  so  near 
As  Antonina,  Belisarius'  wife. 
I  would  philosophy  could  make  it  clear 
Why  men  so  great  in  peace  and  war's  wan  strife, 
By  helpmates  such  as  these,  were  charmed  and  chained 
for  life. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


PART   I 


The  Forum  of  New  Rome — Justinian's  seat! 

His  palace  columns  on  the  south  arise; 

Here  church  and  Hippodrome  and  Senate  meet; 

Sophia's  graceful  domes  cut  the  north  skies, 

Near  shops  for  women,  libraries  for  the  wise; 

Here  lawyers  watch  and  clients  fret  at  court. 

In  sumptuous  baths,  'neath  Homer's  sightless  eyes 

And  marble  gods  and  men,  the  people  sport 

And  saints  torment  their  flesh — at  least  so  goes  report. 


II 

Mobs  multiply  in  sun  and  melt  in  showers. 
To  this  bright  square  crowds  jostled  out  of  lanes 
And  slits  of  streets,  dark  at  the  mid-day  hours. 
Where,  on  the  west,  the  Octagon  contains 
Eight  porticoes  and  monkish  learning  reigns, 
Now  dirty  packs  of  homespuns  push  to  hear 
A  crimson  rhetorician,  who  maintains 
The  populace  must  pay  their  enemies  dear : — 
That  danger  threatens  Belisarius  all  fear. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


III 

Gay  in  its  wrath  is  the  great  Agora, 
The  swarming  square  flashes  in  many  dyes. 
On  brazen  breasts  the  sun  burns  like  a  star. 
A  monk,  with  ribboned  hair,  in  scarlet  hies ; 
His  mincing  step  with  women's  fashion  vies. 
Gray-garbed  philosophers,  doctors  in  blue, 
Are  scattered  right  and  left  by  bare-legged  cries 
That  clear  for  some  proud  horseman  passage  through ; 
Church  virgins  and  loose  loves  wear  here  the  self-same 
hue. 


IV 


Before  the  palace  moves  a  restless  crowd, 
Alert  in  any  turbulence  to  share: 
Beneath  Justinian's  statue  clamoring  loud 
For  right  and  justice;  filling  the  vast  square 
As  far  east  as  the  Senate  portals,  where 
Stand  empty  columns  waiting,  but  in  vain, 
For  heroes  to  be  born  and  sculptured  there; 
While  many  voices  in  the  crowd  complain 
Of  royal  insolence  and  senators'  disdain. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


"  What  senile  whim  is  this  ?     What  envious  lip 

Begot  this  lie  of  treason  to  the  state? 

What  itching  hands  of  secret  foes  would  strip 

Our  general's  wealth?     What  sullen,  crafty  hate 

Would  pluck  his  honors  off?     His  wealth  is  great? 

His  private  guard  too  large  for  public  weal? 

His  purse  has  paid,  when  soldiers  had  to  wait 

For  wages,  earned  in  blood,  that  others  steal. 

His  guard? — the  sole  defense  to  which  we  can  appeal." 


VI 

"  A  kitten-eyed,  frank  man,  bearded  for  camp, 

And  combat,  red  from  battle's  manly  heat; 

As  out  of  place  among  the  courtier  stamp, 

As  a  lost  butterfly  in  city  street. 

No  talker,  flatterer,  loller  at  women's  feet ; 

Save  for  one  woman  bashful  as  a  priest. 

His  only  thought,  how  best  our  foes  to  meet; 

Whose  sword  our  realm  and  prestige  have  increased; 

To  guard  what  others  ruled — there  his  ambition  ceased." 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


VII 

"  I've  seen  an  oak's  young  roots  embrace  a  stone 

And  grow  around  it,  as  if  by  it  fed ; 

When,  later,  root  and  trunk  were  larger  grown, 

They  still  held  fast  the  stone  in  its  firm  bed. 

But  when  the  tree  reared  high  a  glossy  head, 

A  towering  king,  the  forest's  chiefest  pride, 

I've  passed  and  found  the  monarch  lying  dead. 

The  barren  stone,  the  blight  of  which  it  died, 

Had  robbed  it  of  its  food  and  deep  support  denied." 


VIII 

"  The  King  builds  churches  when  he  should  build  forts : 

He  mumbles  creeds  when  he  should  face  his  foes; 

He  pores  o'er  books  when  he  should  lead  cohorts, 

And  acts  with  vigor  when  he  best  repose. 

His  Queen  he  found,  where  good  men  hold  the  nose, — 

His  fondness  dangerous  as  a  bad  king's  crimes — 

'Tis  rare  a  king  suits  all  men,  I  suppose. 

To  act  one's  nature  and  to  match  the  times, 

Is  more  than  often  happens,  save  in  poet's  rhymes." 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


IX 

"  Our  times  will  be  remembered  for  our  loss ; 
Our  thoughts  no  longer  range  in  Plato's  school; 
War,  riches,  fears  are  our  concern, — earth's  dross — 
Or  life  lives  meekly  under  monkish  rule. 
Adventurous  thought  is  clipped  to  please  the  fool. 
When  mind  is  shackled,  feet  are  not  long  free. 
The  consulate  is  now  a  broken  tool. 
The  Senate  feeds  on  royal  bribery; 
While  Goths  and  scheming  monks  hold  West  and  East 
in  fee." 


The  Palace  gates  swing  open,  where,  aloft, 

To  bless  its  splendors  hangs  the  Nazarene. 

Meekly  He  droops,  as  when  His  murderers  scoffed; 

But  armored  knights,  upon  His  favor  lean, 

And  emperors'  eyes  have  dropped  at  this  rood-screen. 

To-day  they  pass  and  leave  the  Christ  alone. 

The  gilt-bronze  roof  covers  a  motley  scene; 

A  prison,  barracks,  banquet-hall,  and  throne: 

The  flatterer's  laughing  lie;  the  wretch's  dying  moan. 


The  Search  of  BeUsarius 


XI 

Marble  and  gold  the  throne  of  mighty  Rome! 
Carved  lions  alert,  its  arms,  from  out  whose  back 
Spring  twisted  columns,  corners  for  the  dome 
Which  shades  such  multitudes  of  cares, — that  rack 
Of  flesh  and  soul,  target  for  foul  attack, — 
Justinian's  throne  and  Theodora's  throne: 
Whose  magic  must  create  what  all  men  lack; 
Factions  consolidate;  affronts  condone; 
And  build  for  coming  ages  while  ephemerals  groan. 


XII 

From  porch  to  audience-room,  the  palace  thronged 

With  men  permitted  that  illustrious  place. 

To  every  nation  that  proud  host  belonged; 

There  Roman  senators  with  Vandals  pace, 

Impatient  to  behold  a  friend's  disgrace. 

Around  them,  they  forget,  the  storied  wall, 

Where  bright  mosaics  hate  dare  not  efface, 

The  wars  of  Belisarius  recall : 

His  conquests  and  the  Emperor's  love  speak  there  to  all. 


10 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIII 

With  accents  firm  but  with  a  sleepless  face, 

Justinian  bade  them  Belisarius  bring; 

Then,  musing,  wondered  at  the  Empress'  grace, 

And   touched  her   gold-veined  throne.      What  ails   the 

king? 

Why  stares  he  so  ?    Who  is  this  entering  ? 
"Tis  Belisarius,  as  blind  as  stone. 
The  Emperor's  eyes  with  tears  were  glistening, 
But  unobserved,  all  looks  were  fixed  alone 
On  him  the   gleaming  guards   led   slowly  toward  the 

throne. 


XIV 

They  left  him  at  the  dark  steps  of  the  throne, — 
So  near,  the  king  recoiled,  abashed  and  mute, — 
Nor  could  he  find  stern  words,  or  awful  tone, 
So  false  a  charge  at  once  to  false  words  suit. 
"  Surely,"  he  thought,  "  none  can  the  spy  dispute: 
Yes,  Antonina  has  confessed  in  tears 
Her  husband's  guilt.     Only  his  high  repute 
Concealed  so  long  his  treachery  from  my  ears." 
Then,  at  his  side,  the  Queen's  low,  warning  words  he 
hears. 


11 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XV 

Though  blazing  jewels  her  bright  head-dress  made, 
Her  eyes  beneath  flashed  fire  more  than  they. 
The  large  gold  meshes  of  her  veil  o'erlaid 
Her  radiant  face,  whose  beauty's  rich  display 
Empallored  gold,  like  starlight  rent  by  day. 
Her  bosom  burned,  but  with  a  flame  apart, 
Like  marble  altars  where  poor  pagans  pray, 
And  light  vain  fires:  for  love,  her  potent  art, 
Could  others  melt  and  mould,  but  could  not  warm  her 
heart. 


XVI 

"  Think  how  good  fortune  smiled  upon  his  life, 

Clad  him  with  strength  to  conquer  every  foe, 

Until  his  will  with  thy  will  is  at  strife. 

Here  he  would  sit  and  see  you  grovel  low. 

Some  injured  god,  who  thinks  to  cause  us  woe, 

Has  given  him  a  son,  noble  and  fair, 

Upon  whose  head  his  power  he  can  bestow. 

No  children's  faces  hang  about  our  chair. 

Will  you  permit  his  race  our  crowns  to  grasp  and  wear? 


12 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XVII 

"  My  love  for  thee  would  save  thee  from  thy  love 

For  those  unworthy  of  that  golden  dower. 

Then  listen,  O  my  Lord!     Did  I  not  prove 

My  firmer  mind  when  all  thy  guards  did  cower? 

Yes,  generals,  too,  before  the  bloody  power 

Those  unchecked  factions  grasped,  the  Greens  and  Blues. 

Death  is  the  lot  of  men;  to  reign  is  our 

Emprise.     Would'st  thou  again  thy  sceptre  lose? 

The  throne's  the  only  sepulchre  a  king  can  choose. 


XVIII 

"  A  woman  knows  all  friendships  have  their  day. 
Can  men  be  friends  for  something  else  than  use? 
Your  kingdom  calmed,  that  hand  must  not  obey 
That  calmed  it?     No!  your  sword,  for  foes  unloose, 
Must  not  strike  back  at  you,  or  crops  produce 
Of  new  and  nearer  foes, — unless  you  planned 
To  give  your  friend  your  throne.     The  same  excuse 
Should,  then,  give  him  to  me; — yes,  as  his  hand 
Falls  short  my  body's  service  to  your  loved  command. 


13 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIX 

"  To-day  each  gains,  save  one,  his  heart's  desire. 
You  find  full  freedom  from  a  treacherous  friend, 
Who,  tired  of  serving  you,  must  needs  conspire 
And  work  to  wear  the  crown  he  should  defend. 
But  his  dark  ways  have  found  a  darker  end. 
Lone  Antonina  gains  young  love.     While  I 
Pluck  out  a  constant  pain,  their  son,  and  send 
Him  not  to  death,  but  to  foul  state  well  nigh 
As  dumb,  whence  dread  can  never  raise  its  startling  cry. 


XX 

Then  fell  the  King's  voice  hollow  as  a  bell 

Heard  off  a  hidden  reef.     "  Thine  ancient  speech 

And  cunning  counsels,  now  illumined,  tell 

A  love  long  since  estranged.     You  would  impeach 

My  power;  exalted  high  by  me,  would  reach 

To  clutch  my  crown.     A  wrinkled  sorceress 

Lured  you  by  dreams  and  magic  to  this  breach 

Of  loyalty  and  friendship.     Now  confess, 

O  Belisarius,  thy  traitor  wickedness." 


14 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXI 

But  those  who  heard  turned  back  in  memory 
To  that  great  pageant,  meed  of  victor's  might — 
So  grand  men  flocked  from  distant  lands  to  see — 
When  he  disdained  the  golden  car,  his  right, 
And  walked  before  his  chosen  horsemen  bright, 
Nor  looked  less  tall  than  that  earth-spurning  band. 
A  tale  for  garrulous  age  was  that  rare  sight; 
King,  captives,  treasures,  stripped  from  Afric  land, 
Brightened  his  splendid  train,  acclaimed  on  every  hand. 


XXII 

At  last  his  calm  lips  opened  and  he  spake, 
But  his  voice  thrilled  them  like  the  clash  of  swords. 
"  My  King,  all's  done.     No  more  shall  I  awake 
At  dawn  to  know  the  light.     The  barbarous  hordes 
Will  Belisarius  fear  no  more.     My  lords 
Can  sleep  now  nights,  nor  vex  their  drowsy  wives 
With  midnight  tapers,  or  dream-murmured  words. 
The  lights  are  out, — at  night  the  thief  contrives 
Against   the   toil-heaped    hoard,   and    fed    by    plunder 
thrives. 


15 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXIII 

"  Were  I  a  Frank,  then  should  I  stand  or  fall 

By  oath,  by  fire,  or  by  my  own  arm's  might, 

To  prove  this  lie  and  wrong  before  you  all, 

Who  wrest  from  me  unheard,  untried,  my  sight. 

What  profit  me  your  garnered  laws,  when  right 

Of  trial,  Noblest  One,  has  been  denied  ? 

A  thousand  years  of  laws  are  dark  as  night, 

When  citizens  are  base:  for  laws  but  hide 

The  truth — the  right  within  just  minds  must  first  reside. 


XXIV 

"  Rememberest  thou  the  year  when  Carthage  fell? 

A  century's  royal  hoard  I  shipped  to  thee; 

While  Gelimer  sent  from  the  citadel, 

His  fortress-prison,  a  Moor  to  beg  from  me 

A  lyre,  a  loaf  to  ease  his  misery. 

Strength  but  to  wail  his  pitiable  fate 

Was  all  he  asked.    Around  him  he  could  see 

Once  fertile  fields,  now  black  and  desolate, 

And  Roman  armor  gleaming  at  his  palace  gate. 


16 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXV 

"  Suspicion  even  then  poisoned  your  heart, 

That  I  too  towering  for  a  subject  grew — 

'Twas  not  your  thought — my  enemies  dipped  the  dart 

That  almost  cost  my  life,  and  cut  from  you 

Your  mailed  right  hand.     When  I  returned,  you  knew 

The  truth.     This  medal  at  my  neck,  see,  shares 

Thy  head  and  mine — two  sides  one  face.    Now  view 

The  legend  my  side  of  the  gold  disk  bears — 

'  The  Glory  of  all  Rome.'     Thy  judgment  it  declares. 


XXVI 

"  Is  Antonina  near  me— my  wife?     No? 

May  hot  tears  scorch  her  eyes  till  they  are  dark 

As  these  of  mine.     Lust,  love,  how  close  ye  go! 

The  ravening  hawk  mates  not  the  soaring  lark. 

Must  love,  sweet  bird,  bound  for  its  heavenly  mark, 

That  sees  and  sings  fair  sights  as  strange  as  song, 

Be  pinioned  in  its  homeward  flight,  and  stark 

Be  fed  upon  ?     No !     No !  my  absence  long 

In  thy  behalf,  Great  Prince,  has  worked  me  fatal  wrong. 


17 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXVII 

"  I  well  remember  how  her  love  stored  up 
Sweet  waters  for  me,  when  our  vessel's  hoard 
Was  spoilt.     Mysteriously  she  filled  my  cup 
And  laughed  like  love's  magician.     She  restored 
The  heart  of  hungry  Rome  once;  took  the  sword, 
Went  to  Campania,  levied  men,  a  fleet, 
And  convoyed  food  to  us.     At  her  word 
The  treacherous  Pope  Silverius  lost  his  seat — 
But  why  should  I  these  idle  memories  repeat? 


XXVIII 

"  Well  know  I  feats  of  war,  not  fawning  peace 

And  courtier  wiles.     T'  outstrip  in  desert  sands 

The  Persian  horse  and  bid  invasion  cease. 

To  sail  a  scanty  fleet  to  Vandal  lands, 

To  conquer  and  return.     By  Gothic  bands 

Besieged  in  Rome  I  starved.     Where  foes  did  swarm 

In  broken  gates  I  fought  with  my  own  hands, 

My  breast  the  only  bar  against  the  storm — 

Alas !  how  I  can  boast  who  cannot  now  perform. 


18 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXIX 

"  As  useless  as  a  eunuch  or  a  monk 

Though  I  am  still  a  man  and  not  a  slave : 

My  martial  usefulness  to  mere  wind  shrunk, 

Belying  the  man's  strength  and  voice  I  have. 

Naught  but  a  voice  from  out  an  empty  cave. 

Why  speak?     Were  it  so  well  I  won  from  thee 

Thy  heart — still  I  am  blind.     My  Liege,  I  crave 

My  son  may  lead  me  off."     Then,  sad  to  see, 

He  held  his  hands  out,  then,  "Where  is  the  child?"  cried  he. 


XXX 

"  The  boy  will  never  come,  nor  hear  again 

Thy  voice — not  dead — I  know  not  where  he  is," 

Faltered  the  king.     Oh!  pain  and  passion  then 

Carved  Belisarius'  face  and  knotted  his 

Big  muscles.     So  he  stood  in  Italy's 

Hard  wars  or  Africa's,  when  blood  did  flow. 

He  felt  in  the  dark  their  hot  eyes'  archeries, 

As  a  hurt  lion  feels  the  jungle  glow, 

On  his  death-night,  with  orbs  of  hungry,  waiting  foe. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXXI 

"  God !    Let  my  brain,  tempered  in  war's  fierce  fire, 

Break  not  at  blows  of  peace,  hate's  quiet  might ! 

A  beacon  watching  Rome,  must  I  expire 

Like  lamps  kept  lit  by  timid  girls  at  night, 

Blown  out  at  dawn,  when  courage  comes  with  light? 

A  king's  love  lost!     A  nation's  service  ceased! 

My  wife  a  traitor!    My  eyes  seared  of  sight! 

My  nestling  carried  off  by  savage  beast. 

Heaven!  help  me  humbly  to  decrease  as  I  increased. 


XXXII 

"  Why  did  ye  not  first  slay,  then  bury  me  ? 

What  is  a  man,  that  ye  dare  wound  him  so? 

A  captive  beast  crowds  in  the  circus  see, 

Transfixed  with  javelins — then  in  sport  let  go? 

And  love  of  child  ?     Ah,  that  ye  cannot  know !  " 

As  when  Rome  burned  the  moon  and  stars  grew  pale, 

So  weak  and  white  did  King  and  courtiers  grow 

Before  his  flaming  wrath  and  red  assail, 

And  many  true  hearts  bled  beneath  their  golden  mail. 


20 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXXIII 

His  soldiers  led  him  to  the  palace  gate, 

A  beggar's  staff  they  snatched  and  gave  his  hand, 

And  grimly  grieved,  amazed  at  his  fall'n  state 

As  he  went  forth  alone  in  that  dark  land. 

Behind  him  groups  of  dazzling  courtiers  stand ; 

And  many  a  jest  they  pass  at  his  lost  sight. 

He  errs,  he  stumbles — loud  laughs  that  gay  band. 

Hateful  is  he  to  them,  as  is  the  light 

To  flashing  fireflies,  that  gild  a  misty  night. 


XXXIV 

Loud  scoffed  a  Roman,  dressed  in  Hunnish  wear — 
That  barbarous  fashion  then  did  gallants  nurse, 
To  swagger  in  fierce  garb  and  flowing  hair — 
"  This  work  is  but  half  done,  so  but  made  worse. 
The  King  is  kind  ?     No,  weak,  and  it  will  curse 
His  tottering  throne.     Blind  adders  have  their  sting; 
Poison  's  in  fangs,  and  not  in  eyes  or  purse. 
Soon  treason's  voice  shall  cry  this  beggar  king, 
New  tumults  and  new  wars  upon  our  state  to  bring. 


21 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXXV 

The  sun  crept  high  on  Saint  Sophia's  dome ; 

Along  the  walls  the  noiseless  night  stole  fast; 

The  curious  following  crowd  had  scattered  home; 

But  Belisarius  groped  until  at  last 

He  reached  the  city  gates — blind,  shunned,  outcast — 

The  gates  of  many  triumphs,  now  of  dole, 

Golden  to  enter  out  of  perils  past 

And  victories  won,  a  homeward,  happy  goal. 

Dark  exit  now  they  gave  to  dark  days  for  his  souL 


22 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


PART  II 


When  Antonina  learned  the  awful  price 
Exacted  by  the  Queen  for  treacherous  aid, 
To  rid  her  of  her  husband  and  entice 
A  lover,  conscience-calm  and  unafraid, — 
Her  son's  abduction  was  the  price  she  paid — 
Seeing  her  deeper,  secret  hope  had  failed, 
Of  goading  Belisarius,  traitor  made, 
To  rouse  the  people  and  their  king  be  hailed; 
She  through  her  palace  raved  and  her  hard  fate  be- 
wailed. 


II 

Her  vigorous  spirit  did  not  long  repine, 

Nor  yield  to  hostile  skies  the  sight  of  tears; 

New  plots  she  brooded,  wickeder  design, — 

To  kill  her  husband  and  so  still  her  fears. 

But  lest  the  deed  come  to  the  Emperor's  ears, 

She  quickly  planned  a  feast,  that  night,  be  made 

To  trusted  friends,  older  in  crimes  than  years. 

Of  these  three  youths,  of  devils  unafraid, 

Would  do  her  wish,  she  knew,  with  all-too-ready  blade. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


III 

Across  the  Bosphorus  the  palace  stood — 

White  marble  temples  in  a  park  of  flowers — 

The  further  side  protected  by  a  wood, 

Whose  grottoes  and  dim  lakes  soothed  sultry  hours. 

But  sweeter  were  the  hill-side  garden  bowers, 

Amid  whose  blossoms  spouted  fountains  gay, 

Babbling  to  birds  that  braved  the  sparkling  showers, 

And  sang  and  gleamed  and  blessed  the  night  and  day; 

While  opposite,  in  view,  Constantinople  lay. 


IV 

The  world  had  been  ransacked  to  build  her  hall, 
The  gods  had  burst  their  tombs  and  lived  anew. 
Rose  marble,  swirled  to  flame,  covered  the  wall, 
Broken  by  pilasters  of  emerald  hue. 
The  porphyry  floor, — fit  rest  for  Juno's  shoe — 
Mirrored  gold  ceilings,  with  their  myriad  lights, 
And  balconies,  lace-marble  screened  from  view, 
And  antique  shapes.     But  brighter  than  these  sights 
The  youths,  who  on  bronze  couches  leaned,  and  drank 
delights. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


She  entered  and  she  bade  her  singers  three, 

In  song,  of  all  her  men  and  maids  the  best, 

To  ease  the  burden  of  her  misery, 

And  sing  to  her,  for  song  might  give  her  rest, 

And  music  drive  the  furies  from  her  breast. 

So  from  their  seats  they  rose  and  took  their  stand. 

A  fresh,  young  knight  in  war  equipment  dressed; 

A  bearded  Cypriot,  minstrel  of  love's  land ; 

And  a  pale,  troubled  girl,  a  red  rose  in  her  hand. 


VI 

"  O  how  I  hate  the  man  whom  once  I  loved. 
The  bitterer  since  he  could  not  hold  my  heart, 
Transmute    by   wealth,    which    should    the   world   have 

moved, 

To  greater  uses  than  a  woman's  part 
In  bed  and  board.     God,  what  a  fool  thou  art 
To  bring  forth  heroes  from  mixed  ancestry, 
Protect  them  from  disease  and  war's  dire  dart, 
A  Titan  breed  for  earth's  new  destiny, 
Then  let  mischance'  blind  blow  insult  thy  prophecy." 


25 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


VII 

"  Sing  me  such  songs  as  once  the  Sirens  sang. 

Not  they  Ulysses  mocked  with  stolid  ears, 

Whose  voices  over  barren  waters  rang, 

To  frighten  sailors'  wives  with  jealous  fears; 

But  those  who  greet  the  souls  that  Charon  steers 

When  they  tread  asphodel.     Whose  music  dulls 

All  pangs  of  longing  for  these  mortal  years; 

And  love  and  hate  and  all  remorse  annuls, 

Undressing  souls  of  grief,  and  earth-born  terror  lulls. 


The  Girl  sings. 

Tell  me!     If  you  found  me  in  a  mart 
In  Asia,  where  mild-faced  camels  pass, 
Bearing  slave-girls  from  far-off  Circass; 
Tell  me  now,  yes  truly,  from  your  heart! 
As  we  stood  there,  shame-faced,  meek, 

You,  a  prince,  espy  me, 
Bartered  for  by  merchants  sleek; 

Would  you  buy  me  ? 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


Tell  me !     If  you  found  me  where  men  sin 
In  cities;  day's  weary  toil,  at  night, 
Changing  for  unchaste,  unblest  delight; 
Tell  me,  as  you  hope  my  soul  to  win ! 
For  what  others  offered  you, 

Love,  could  you  refuse  me? 
Spite  of  all  that  they  might  do, 

Would  you  choose  me? 

Dainty  women,  if  they  passed  your  way 
Or  stopped?     Queens  and  ladies,  fair  to  see, 
Looked  at  you,  and  smiled  imploringly? 
Tell  me,  for  I  cannot  longer  stay! 
Would  you  close  your  precious  eyes 

Tight  to  their  vanity, 
Shapely  breasts  and  marble  thighs, 

And  dream  of  me? 


27 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


VIII 

"  Child,"  Antonina  said,  "  is  this  thy  dream, 
To  fill  a  man's  thought  so  exclusively  ? 
No!     No!     Their  minds  with  many  faces  teem, 
Which  fancy  fondles  in  heart's  truancy, 
Playing  with  might-have-been  or  what  might  be. 
And  when  some  staunch  heart  holds  a  single  face, 
Then  duties,  cares,  great  plans  by  land  or  sea, — 
Such  men  take  gravely, — chill  their  rare  embrace, 
Absorb  their  little  minds  and  leave  for  love  no  place. 


The  Knight  sings. 

My  lady  loves  her  radiant  garden, 
Gently  moves  among  her  flowers, — 
Iris,  poppies,  oleander. 
O  the  garden ! 

Sweet,  she  rests  amid  its  sweetness, 
Laughs  and  dreams,  her  face  in  blossoms, 
While  the  sunshine  feeds  rich  colors. 
O  the  sweetness! 


On  the  one  side  flows  a  river, 
Sparkling,  merry.     Boats  bear  on  it 
Companies  of  youths  and  maidens. 
O  the  river ! 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


And  she,  smiling,  flings  them  flowers, 
Back  they  sing  their  answer  to  her, 
Floating  past  her  with  their  music. 
O  the  music ! 


On  the  other  side  a  high-road, 
Toiled  upon  by  horsemen,  footmen: 
Dusty  travelers  know  that  garden. 
O  the  high-road! 

And  the  lady  gives  them  bounty, 
Food  and  wine  and  kindly  speeches, 
Till,  refreshed,  they  journey  onward. 
O  the  toilers ! 


So  she  gives  the  happy  pleasure, 
And  the  weary  soft  refreshment. 
O  my  lady,  from  your  garden, 
Give  me  love ! 


2.9 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


IX 

"  Poor  Knight,"  and  Antonina  almost  smiled, 
"  Where  is  her  garden?     I  would  see  that  sight. 
Dreamer  art  thou,  as  is  this  anxious  child. 
Must  women  be  but  givers  of  delight? 
'  Give,  give,'  you  shout,  as  to  some  goddess,  Knight. 
Does  she  want  nothing?     What!     Has  she  no  need? 
Yes,  women  wish  what  few  men  have  to  plight — 
Great  tenderness  with  strength.     Should  beggar  plead 
With  beggar  for  his  food?  or  hailed  to,  will  he  heed?  " 


The  Cypriot  sings. 

Two  things  the  gods  cannot  destroy, 

Although  they  envy  human  joy, 

And  blast  men's  smiles, 

Washing  their  face  with  tears: — 

Beauty  of  women,  that  beguiles, 

Strength  of  men,  through  youth's  brief  years; 

Eyes  of  brightness, 

Limbs  of  lightness. 

These  must  the  gods  desire; 

Or  end  the  race  they  made 

And  quench  the  altar-fire, 

Where  sacrifice  is  paid. 


SO 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


"  Cyprus  is  right,  beauty  will  never  die. 

Young  eyes  will  shine ;  young  limbs  with  lightness  move ; 

Strong  beasts  will  prowl;  the  happy  birds  will  fly 

In  silent  groves  or  in  the  blue  above. 

But  what  for  you  and  me  does  all  this  prove? 

Our  bodies  soon  will  rot  beneath  the  grass, 

Feeding  fat  glow-worms,  not  the  flame  of  love. 

Flesh,  flesh  you  weary  me!     Unquiet  mass 

Of  festering,  fetid  pulp !     Pah !  beauty  soon  will  pass." 


XI 

But  Antonina's  ears  could  bear  no  more 
Youth's  dream  of  love,  in  breathing  tones  so  sweet; 
It  clangored  on  the  deeds  her  bosom  bore, 
And  crashed  in  discord  past  her  strength  to  meet. 
Seizing  a  torch  beside  her  throne-like  seat, 
She  hurried  into  silence,  night  and  air, 
Crushing  closed  flowers  with  her  sandaled  feet, 
And  sought  a  lane  of  cypress,  pacing  there 
Between  imperial  busts,  that  out  of  darkness  stare. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XII 

Soon  he  must  come.     How  would  he  look?     What  say? 

Would  his  blind  fingers  grip  her  jeweled  throat, 

And  purge  its  laughter  and  its  lies  away? 

Kill  the  white  flesh  on  which  he  used  to  dote  ? 

And — should  her  dagger  stab  him  if  he  smote, 

Both  dying  there,  sneered  at  by  marble  kings  ? 

She  stops.     That  sound !     At  last — is  it  his  boat, 

Or  pebble-chasing  waves?     Now  armor  rings. 

Too  noisy  is  the  slave,  who  Belisarius  brings. 


XIII 

Well  might  his  murderous  wife  recoil  afeard 

From  presence  of  her  lord.     But  was  it  he? 

This  aged  man, — white  hair,  white  face,  white  beard, 

And  vacant  eyes  that  rolled  but  did  not  see  ? 

Does  midnight  ghost  confront  her  treachery? 

Cheeks   fear  blanched  not,  brown  hair  war   could  not 

harm, 

Bleached  by  his  broken  heart's  hour's  agony ; 
Lips  trembling  that  once  laughed  at  death's  alarm, 
And  voice  uncertain  now  that  war's  worst  shocks  could 

calm. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIV 

"  Antonina?    Why  have  you  called  me  back? 
You  run  grave  risk  in  this.     Upon  the  road 
Your  servant  found  me,  struggling  in  the  black 
Abyss  of  double  night.     Without  abode, 
I  groped  alone,  where  once  my  legions  strode. 
I  find  you  in  a  song-cage,  sweet  with  scent 
Of  sleeping  flowers.     What  wantonness,  what  toad 
Of  lust  is  here  ?     On  new  loves  are  you  bent  ? 
My  fall  you  quickly  wrought.     Why  stay  my  banish- 
ment? " 


XV 

"  Be  short  of  speech  in  what  you  have  to  say, 

For  if  a  palace  spy  saw  me  borne  hence, 

And  carried  word,  we  both  should  be  their  prey. 

Your  banqueters  might  speed  a  message  thence; 

And  while  my  life  has  little  consequence, 

I  must  not  die  until  I  find  him  out 

Who  owes  to  us  his  life."     In  dark  suspense 

He  waited  her  reply,  groping  about. 

She  could  not  speak,  or  touch  his  hand,  or  still  his  doubt. 


33 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XVI 

"  I  would  I  knew  to-night  what  hands  prepare 
His  couch,  or  give  him  water,  if  he  thirst, 
Whose  knees  he  kneels  at  for  his  bedtime  prayer ! 
God  grant  some  woman,  who  strong  sons  has  nursed, 
Who  in  the  needs  and  ways  of  boys  is  versed! 
She  will  awake  and  answer  if  he  call; 
Will  quiet  his  new  fears  and  even  durst 
Defend  him,  if  a  slave  in  anger  fall 
Upon  him,  or  a  soldier  crazed  from  drunken  brawl. 


XVII 

"  You  bring  me  back  only  to  feed  your  tears  ? 
Yet  this  is  much ;  they  were  not  used  to  flow 
And  splash  from  your  dark  eyes  in  former  years. 
Weep !     Weep  !     Now  I  believe  the  wondrous  blow 
That  Moses  smote  the  rock.     But  let  me  go. 
I  came — I  know  not  why.     There  is  an  end 
To  all  things,  past  which  lies  no  hope  and  no 
Beginnings.     Youth,  child-bearing,  sight,  a  friend 
Once  lost,  no  prayers  can  alter,  no  remorse  amend." 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XVIII 

"  My  Lord,  never  thought  I  to  see  you  thus ! 

My  eyes  will  weep  themselves  to  blindness  too. 

You  must  see.    Look,  my  torch !    No,  cavernous 

Thine  eyes  as  these  deep  shadows,  or  yon  view 

Of  inky  weltering  waves,  that  once  you  knew. 

Vast  punishment  is  mine !    I've  lost  my  son, 

Snatched  from  my  arms  by  a  masked,  murderous  crew. 

My  husband's  all  despoiled !     I — I  have  done 

This  hideous,  bootless  wrong  and  towards  worse  evils  run. 


XIX 

"  How  could  I  know  the  King  would  take  our  child? 

My  dream  was  to  inflame  you,  driven  to  bay, 

To  lead  the  people,  who  had  often  styled 

You  king,  to  crown  you.    Like  a  sheep  you  lay 

While  vultures  picked  your  eyes  out — filched  your  day. 

A  feeble  woman  may  well  fawn  to  power. 

But  you  the.  head  of  all  Rome's  armed  array ! 

God,  what  a  man !     Before  the  King  you  cower, 

Who  might  have  sat  his  throne  with  me,  this  woeful  hour. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XX 

"  Justinian  and  his  Empress  are  less  fit 

To  rule  the  world  than  we.     They  do  not  look 

So  much  a  regal  station  and  they  sit 

Their  twin-thrones  negligently.     You'd  have  shook 

The  world  from  Bosphorus;  Justinian's  book — 

His  laws — trash  to  your  name.     Your  sword  had  flashed 

Its  threats  to  far  frontiers,  till  every  nook 

Of  empire  throve  in  peace — where  Parthians  dashed, 

Or  flying  Gothic  spears  against  our  armor  clashed. 


XXI 

"  I  remember  the  first  time  you  saw  me, 

In  the  new  theatre  by  the  Hippodrome ! 

The  Emperor  and  you  were  there  to  see 

Our  famous  Theodora,  newly  come 

From  her  Ionian  revels,  sick  for  home. 

Oh !  how  we  others  teased  and  envied  her, 

Who  had  the  friendship  of  the  throne  of  Rome ! 

How  anxious  of  our  looks  and  steps  we  were, 

If,  haply,  we  some  pulse  in  his  cold  frame  might  stir! 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXII 

"  When  all  was  done,  Justinian  called  her  forth. 

You  summoned  me.     I  thought  my  breast  would  burst. 

Your  every  deed  I  knew — your  unstained  worth. 

My  father  said  you  were  of  all  men  first; 

But  were  in  war's  harsh  cares  too  deep  immersed 

To  heed  light  pleasures.     By  the  King  you  sat, 

Like  Mars  with  Jove,  quenching  with  gold  our  thirst. 

How  courteous  your  words,  as  you  gazed  at 

My  player's  gauds.   'Twas  then  I  vowed  to  leave  all  that. 


XXIII 

"  My  father — yes,  he  was  a  charioteer, 
Who  safely  drove  his  madly  dashing  team, 
His  only  spur  the  people's  jeer  or  cheer — 
Thought  you  a  god,  and  me  child  of  a  dream, 
To  wed  so  near  the  throne.     How  would  you  seem, 
Think  you,  to  him  now?    Yes,  horses  he  drove; 
But  held  them  steady  to  the  clanking  beam. 
He  steered  his  life  and  in  the  circus  throve, 
Better  than  you  have  shaped  your  life,  who  with  kings 
strove. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXIV 

"  How  often  have  I  saved  you  from  yourself, 
Dejected  to  digest  the  worst  of  ills 
Your  enemies  could  concoct.     Your  wealth  was  pelf 
They  dared  not  seize;  so  as  a  hunter  kills 
A  tropic  bird  and  all  its  heart-blood  spills, 
For  one  gold  feather,  these  men  planned  your  doom. 
You  fled  the  palace  and  its  treacherous  sills, 
Escaped  to  me,  to  make  your  bed  your  tomb, 
And  heard  assassins'  stealth  when  footsteps  passed  our 
room. 


XXV 

"  I  pleaded  with  the  Emperor  for  your  life, 
Explained  you  to  him,  cleared  up  what  seemed  strange; 
Adjured  him,  by  my  girl's  love  for  his  wife, 
To  give  your  life  to  me — take  in  exchange 
Whatever  pleased  him — all  I  would  arrange. 
When  to  your  ears  I  brought  my  message  sweet, 
You  kneeled  to  me  like  one  great  fears  derange, 
Embraced  my  knees,  and  kissed  my  sandaled  feet, 
And  vowed  you  owed  me  more  than  two  lips  could  re- 
peat. 


38 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXVI 

"  You  should  have  worshiped  me  and  let  me  guide 

The  fortune  of  your  house/    What  wife  but  I 

Would  leave  a  capital  and  seek  your  side 

In  far  campaigns,  fatigueless,  fearless,  my 

Ambition  thine ; — with  thee,  perchance,  to  die, 

Or  for  thee  do  great  deeds,  my  only  thought? 

Your  troops  I  saved,  when  generals  dared  not  try: 

Ranging  a  hostile  land  for  food,  I  brought 

It  back  to  Rome.    Was  such  love,  such  devotion  naught? 


XXVII 

"  Your  soldier  couch  I  shared,  your  soldier  fare, 

And  fancied  that  I  shared  your  heart  and  mind: 

But  there  I  missed.    Of  help  you  stripped  me  bare ; 

The  fruit  you  gave  Justinian,  me  the  rind. 

Yes,  crowns  were  proffered  you,  which  you  declined, 

'  For  King  and  state.'     Me  you  put  after  both. 

At  last  the  King  and  state  have  stripped  you  blind. 

What  can  a  woman  do,  frail  as  a  moth, 

When  men  are  weak  and  blind  ?   No  wonder  I  am  wroth ! 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXVIII 

"  What  matter  you  are  blind?     You  never  saw. 

You  took  my  best,  as  you  from  slaves  took  wine. 

I  hate  your  "  king/'  your  "  state,"  your  "  duty,"  "  law. 

You  gave  to  them  what  was  not  theirs  but  mine, 

Vague  to  my  soul,  dull  when  my  heart  did  pine. 

A  woman's  want  is  not  her  husband's  fame. 

Ah,  no!     She  dreams  she  clasps  a  god  divine, 

When  love  enhanced  by  a  resounding  name, 

Her  beauty,  worth,  and  fortune  to  all  time  proclaim. 


XXIX 

"What  is  your  loyalty?     A  forced  faith  kept 

Between  your  word  and  deed,  your  lips  and  ears; 

Like  royal  missives  none  may  intercept? 

Is  it  a  man's  odd  honor  to  his  peers; 

Or  dull  fidelity  of  shields  and  spears, 

That,  do  he  as  he  will,  protects  a  king? 

I  plight  my  faith  to  glorious  ideas, 

That  rule  beyond  our  lives  and  swiftly  wing 

Their  flight  from  God  to  man,  his  soul  inspiriting. 


40 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXX 

"  Can  you  not  see  you  owed  me  duty,  too? 

And  owed  your  son  ?    We  should  have  been  the  first 

You  planned  for,  fought  for,  prayed  you  might  be  true. 

Ours  should  have  been  your  best  and  not  your  worst. 

A  woe  is  mine !    My  blood  by  Christ  accursed ! 

Why  did  I  hate  the  circus  and  the  stage, 

For  mind,  affection,  power  and  splendor  thirst, 

In  sleepless  watch  of  court  and  camp  engage, 

To  lose  now  all  I  earned,  and  win  a  lonely  age  ? 


XXXI 

"  You've  seen  me  stoop  to  pick  an  acorn  up, 
Discovered  in  my  path.    I  knew  it  held 
A  mighty  oak  within  its  rough-chased  cup. 
Its  future,  in  its  signet-seed,  I  spelled; 
Strivings  of  root,  trunk,  bough — all  these  enshelled 
My  palm  could  hide.     Twin  acorns  were  a  toy 
I  saved  for  months.     Why  was  I  thus  impelled? 
You  were  my  kindred  hope,  you  and  our  boy. 
Genius    and    youth — with    love — can    world-wide    rule 
enjoy. 


41 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXXII 

"  So  when  I  found  your  courage  had  no  root 
Or  prime  in  love — that  soil  of  mighty  deeds — 
And  further  saw  that  all  your  great  repute 
You  bluffly  laughed  at,  calling  laurels  weeds, 
Glory,  a  dainty  dish  on  which  time  feeds, 
And  courted  honors  only  as  they  patched 
The  robe  of  state;  for  me  and  for  my  needs 
What  was  there  left,  except,  what  you  unlatched — 
My    heart — and    entered    not,    open    to     guests     that 
matched." 


XXXIII 

Her  body  failed  her,  then  her  fertile  mind; 
Her  throat  was  gripped,  but  not  by  human  hand; 
Nor  could  she,  fainting,  further  logic  find; 
For  by  her  pity  she  was  so  unmanned, 
She  had  forgot  the  very  deed  she  planned. 
The  rising  wind  waved  wildly  the  black  trees; 
The  heaving  waters  grated  on  the  sand; 
Clouds  hid  the  stars.     Then  strike,  for  no  one  sees! 
But  no !     She  waits  his  words,  with  weak  and  trembling 
knees. 


42 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXXIV 

"  Antonina,  you  talk  but  do  not  think ; 

Or  brood  too  much  on  self,  which  clouds  the  mind. 

You  never  fathomed  where  my  spirits  sink, 

Or  lightened  by  sweet  glances  that  divined 

The  terrors  my  soul  sees.     Would  I  were  blind! 

I  see  the  empire  falling,  and  I  know 

Nothing  can  hold  it — war  and  prayer  combined. 

God  and  our  foes  decree  it  shall  be  so: 

My  victories,  like  Hesper,  creeping  darkness  show. 


XXXV 

"  I  shielded  you  from  every  breath  of  blame, 

Warded  all  danger  from  your  glorious  head; 

Till  foes  pronounced  my  loyalty  my  shame, 

Found  my  mind  warped,  my  moral  nature  dead. 

Sisaura's  battlefield  for  you  I  fled. 

My  friends,  who  warned  me  of  your  household  sin, 

Paid  with  their  lives  the  honest  words  they  said. 

Bitter  for  me  the  death  of  Constantin, 

And  the  blind,  foolish  mazes  love  has  led  me  in. 


43 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXXVI 

"  I  trusted  you  as  only  man's  love  trusts — 

Too  much  for  gift,  or  trick,  or  to  take  care 

To  buttress  love,  or  fear  unholy  lusts: 

For  did  you  not  my  breast  and  fortune  share? 

What  more  for  you  to  wish,  or  me  to  dare  ? 

My  arm  was  Rome's  defense,  your  face  was  mine. 

Burdened  by  beauty,  memory  in  despair 

Drops  the  excess.    When  my  eyes  turned  to  thine, 

All  memory  you  surpassed  and  seemed  a  thing  divine. 


XXXVII 

"  Could  you  conceive  my  hands  raised  against  him 
Whom  all  my  deeds  and  all  my  thoughts  defend? 
Or  urge  my  sword  in  royal  rivers  swim, 
Which  tiptoed  in  his  foes  ?    A  treacherous  friend ! 
My  blade,  confounded  by  such  devil-blend, 
Barbarian  blood  and  Greek  upon  one  steel, 
Would  crumble  into  dust,  ere  it  would  lend 
Its  edge  to  such  adultery.     No!    Do  not  kneel, 
Though  wife,  you  knew  me  not,  if  this  you  could  not 
feel. 


44 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXXVIII 

"  As  a  man  dying  frets  in  silent  thought, 
That  those  around  him  do  not  stop  to  guess, 
But  prattle  how  they  prospered,  sold  or  bought ; 
What  pleasures  clasped,  or  what  expect  confess; 
What  names  have  mounted  higher,  what  grown  less. 
While  all  the  time,  the  sick  man  feels  death's  clutch, 
And  shudders  for  some  word  his  soul  to  bless, 
Some  human  converse  of  that  chilly  touch; 
So   I,  perhaps,  in   Rome's  death-mood  have  dwelt  too 
much." 


XXXIX 

The  lady's  anger  could  no  further  go. 

Her  plight  was  strange,  her  course  was  far  from  plain. 

First,  she  had  hoped  the  throne  to  overthrow; 

Or,  failing  this,  at  least  a  lover  gain. 

Then,  to  insure  the  fruit  of  hellish  bane, 

She  set  blind  Belisarius  a  trap, 

Where  by  assassins'  blades  he  could  be  slain. 

But  face  to  face  with  him  and  his  mishap, 

She  wept  as  Mary  wept,  the  dead  Christ  in  her  lap. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XL 

While  Antonina's  dauntless  heart  grew  soft, 
And  shrank  from  deeper  sin  and  deadlier  wrong, 
The  servile  youths,  waiting  her  will,  had  oft 
Silenced  their  laughter,  stopped  their  dance  and  song; 
Or  as  they  drank,  with  side  look,  listened  long 
For  summons  to  their  final  bloody  deed. 
At  last  the  signal  rang — not  faint,  but  strong 
With  terror  of  real  pain.     So  out  they  speed, 
With  torch  and  sword,  to  slay  the  last  of  Rome's  great 
breed. 


XLI 

Their  tumult  waked  the  birds  in  sleeping  trees; 

And  flashed  strange  light  on  sea-wall,  fountain,  urn; 

Roused  Antonina's  horror  from  her  knees, 

Who  bade  the  slave  that  brought  the  blind  return 

And  save  him  with  his  life.     Then,  did  she  spurn 

Her  torch,  and  to  the  peering  murderers  hied. 

In  her  wild  soul  new,  brighter  fires  burn. 

Veiling  her   face,   "  Here !     Here !     Strike  here !  "  she 

cried, 
And  on  their  drawn  swords  ran  and  in  their  arms  she 

died. 


46 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


PART   III 


A  thousand  birds  sang  paean  to  the  light, 
When  Belisarius  'gan  his  search  engage. 
He  did  not  seem  an  exile,  nor  in  flight, 
Although  he  walked  unserved  by  slave  or  page. 
"  Some  grave  astrologer  or  mighty  sage 
Grown  blind  o'er  books !    His  beard,  see,  white  as  snow." 
"  A  great  king  toiling  on  a  pilgrimage, 
Anxious  and  pale  to  pay  his  pious  vow; 
Look  you,  how  prayers  have  upward  ridged  his  frowning 
brow." 


II 

West  with  the  night  he  made  his  doubtful  way, — 
For  choice  of  paths  to  ignorance  there  is  none, — 
Four  hundred  days  of  journeying  there  lay 
Between  the  rising  and  the  setting  sun; 
Two  hundred  north  and  south  as  carriers  run. 
How  can  he  find,  who  knows  not  where  to  look, 
And  has  not  eyes  to  see  the  goal  when  won? 
The  olive-fringed  Pannonian  road  he  took, 
Byzantium's  thankless  dust  from  off  his  sandals  shook. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


III 

Whene'er  he  passed  where  an  old  soldier  dwelt, 

With  busy  hands  the  good  wife  led  him  in; 

While  pangs  of  angry  pain  the  veteran  felt, 

To  see  his  leader  lonely,  silent,  thin. 

"  Alas,"  she  sighed,  "  he  ne'er  committed  sin  " ; 

Or  "  Woe  is  me !  what  scars  his  strong  arms  wear !  " 

And  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "  what  battles  he  could  win, 

Loving  the  van's  most  desperate  risks  to  share ! 

I  hear  his  voice  like  forward,  brazen  trumpet's  blare." 


IV 

Where  laughing  children  circled  in  a  game, 

His  wanderings  Belisarius  would  stay, 

To  tell  them  tales  of  far  lands  whence  he  came. 

They  looked  and  listened,  while  his  hands  would  stray 

Amongst  their  curls,  or  with  their  soft  hands  play; 

Or  sometimes  with  gaunt,  trembling  fingers  trace 

Their  features,  wonderstruck,  and  gently  say, 

"  Know  ye  a  boy  whose  face  is  like  my  face  ?  " 

But  no,  his  tears  would  frighten  them  from  his  embrace. 


48 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


One  day  he  paused  before  the  lofty  door 

Of  a  basilica  thrown  open  wide; 

Proud,  kingly  knees  had  pressed  its  holy  floor 

And  earthly  lords  had  there  heaven's  pardon  cried. 

He  entered  not,  but  knelt  and  prayed  outside. 

A  warrior-saint,  carved  in  immortal  prayer, 

He  might  have  been;  but  peace  did  not  abide 

Upon  his  face.     Many  who  passed  him  there, 

Within  prayed  for  themselves  and  for  his  dark  despair. 


VI 

Who  knows  what  spirits  hasten  at  our  thought? 
O  were  they  by  Christ's  virgin-mother  sent? 
Why  ask  what  saint  to  him  sweet  solace  brought, 
What  guardian  angel  heavenly  influence  lent? 
Fresh  from  their  prayers,  on  holy  lives  intent, 
With  hallowed  brows,  a  group  of  maidens  came. 
At  sight  of  his  bowed  form  their  hearts  were  rent 
With  tender  pity :  for  they  knew  his  fame, 
His  cruel  wrongs,  his  grief  and  undeserved  shame. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


VII 

Their  gentle  voices  roused  his  prayerful  dream, 
His  huge,  clasped  hands  their  timid  fingers  pressed. 
His  arms  they  prop,  and  Caryatids  seem, 
White-robed  like  lilies  in  the  isles  far  west. 
They  led  him  to  a  place  where  he  could  rest — 
For  their  young  hearts  brimmed  full  with  charity; 
Their  lips  spoke  love,  their  eyes  were  like  the  blest — 
And  found  a  marble  seat  beneath  a  tree, 
Set  in  a  fragrant  garden's  walled  tranquillity. 


VIII 

One  bathed  his  forehead,  one  his  tired  feet; 

Some  spread  white  linen  on  a  table  nigh, 

And  placed  there  bread  and  wine,  and  honey  sweet, 

And  mellow  fruits  in  baskets  heaped  up  high, 

Hid  in  cool  leaves.     They  all  did  vie 

In  maiden  ministries  with  joy  and  zeal, 

With  many  a  soft  caress  and  stifled  sigh; 

But  when,  refreshed,  he  smiled,  they  round  him  kneel, 

And  speak  the  love  and  sympathy  their  warm  breasts  feel. 


50 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


IX 

"  Glory  of  Rome,  we  know  thy  heavy  heart 

Is  dark  with  grief  for  loss  of  one  you  love. 

If  he  were  dead,  then  you  could  bear  your  part 

In  mankind's  common  sorrow.     God  above, 

For  He  sees  all,  knows  whither  you  must  rove. 

Alas,  we  dearly  love,  for  maids  we  are! 

Mute  death's  cold  hand  one's  passion  did  reprove; 

While  others  daily  pray  for  lovers,  far 

Away  oil  treacherous  seas,  or  in  the  front  of  war. 


"  O  emperor  death,  whose  slaves  we  are  at  last, 

Why  are  you  covetous  of  life's  domain? 

Across  her  borders,  why  your  legions  cast 

To  separate  fond  hearts?     O'er  woe  you  reign, 

O  emperor  death,  dark  lord  of  grief  and  pain. 

Is  death  so  short  you  pilfer  from  life's  store? 

Is  life  so  long  you  cannot  wait  your  slain? 

Like  hungry  waves  that  feed  upon  the  shore 

And  snarl  and  rave  in  billowy  strife  to  waste  it  more. 


51 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XI 

"  But  love  can  live  though  oceans  intervene; 

For  love  will  speak  when  women's  lips  are  dead, 

And  hearts  commune  though  faces  are  unseen, 

And  nameless  perils  and  unreasoning  dread 

Come  with  the  night  to  watch  the  wakeful  bed. 

Like  Iris'  rainbow  path,  love  spans  the  sky, 

And  up  this  mystic  way,  pure  souls  are  led 

To  joyful  greetings  at  a  tryst  on  high; 

For  true  love  holy  is  and  feeds  not  through  the  eye. 


XII 

"  Thy  lot  is  hard,  but  it  is  not  the  worst 
That  father  e'er  befell.    For  we  have  read 
How  Brutus  bade  his  son  be  slain,  the  first 
To  disobey  him,  though  'twas  courage  led 
The  wilful  boy  our  enemies'  blood  to  shed. 
How  grieved  Aurelius  at  that  stripling  weak, 
Young  Commodus !    Better  had  he  been  dead, 
Than  sat  the  throne !    Naught  paled  Severus'  cheek 
Until  his  son  with  poison  cup  his  life  did  seek. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIII 

"  O  bitter,  bitter  was  another's  fate, 
King  Chosroes,  of  that  pure  Persian  race. 
Although  the  world  has  called  him  Fortunate, 
Thou  wouldst  not  make  exchange  for  his  high  place: 
Whose  son  rebellious  from  his  love  and  grace, 
Made  bloody  war  against  his  father's  throne; 
But  never  after  saw  his  father's  face. 
Hot  needlec  stabbing  sight,  his  crime  atone. 
Ah,  sad  the  sire  whose  sceptred  hand  must  blind  his 
own! 


XIV 

"Nor  would  you  wish  your  son  to  outlive  you; 

His  weakness  enter  times  ruled  by  your  foes, 

Who  could  do  nothing  else  than  kill  him  too, 

Lest  his  great  name  should  their  mean  pomp  disclose. 

Mark  Antony's  dire  death  did  so  expose 

His  Fulvia's  son.     Thus  died  earth's  dearest  boy, 

Caesarion,  Cleopatra's  child.     Our  woes, 

Our  loss,  our  shame  we  can  endure  with  joy, 

Than  loved  ones  leave  for  those  who  hate  us  to  destroy. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XV 


"  Thy  son.  is  somewhere  waiting  thy  approach 
With  hope  expectant  and  with  heart  assured. 
No  doubts  of  you  upon  his  faith  encroach, 
Though  loneliness  and  pain  he  has  endured, 
Or  in  oblivious  dungeon  been  immured. 
We  pray  that  thou  wilt  trust  the  Father  dear, 
Whose  blessed  Son  our  ransom  hath  secured. 
For  He  will  guide  thee  and  thy  road  make  clear, 
As  by  a  star  He  led  the  Magi  to  Judea." 


XVI 

Then  Belisarius  smiled  when  they  were  done, 

And  said,  "  I  trust  a  reigning  Providence. 

Who  in  the  chance  of  war  has  often  won, 

Or  gained  success  in  works  of  consequence, 

Come  safe  through  plagues  and  perils,  will  bring  thence 

The  feeling  that  some  power  above  his  own, 

Is  aiding  him  with  its  high  influence. 

But  future  mandates  of  the  heavenly  throne 

We  cannot  penetrate,  and  they  may  cause  us  moan. 


54 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XVII 

"  Daughters  of  love,  your  words  are  like  the  night 

That  weaves  its  dream-web  'twixt  two  days  of  pain. 

I  feel  the  soothing  of  your  presence  bright, 

Like  woods  at  dusk  adrip  with  silver  rain. 

Your  words  are  like  the  slumbering  night's  low  strain, 

Which  murmurs  to  the  stars  from  dark  till  day, 

A  song  of  myriad  life  in  hushed  refrain; 

The  song  of  life  that  sings  to  us  alway, 

Amid  our  tears,  our  doubts,  disease  and  death's  decay. 


XVIII 

"  So  fear  not  love  with  his  ecstatic  lyre, 

Though  in  his  train  some  go  with  grief  and  tears; 

Some  speed  consumed  with  piteous,  quenchless  fire, 

And  some  oppressed  with  dread  and  deathly  fears; 

He  leads  you  to  the  goal  of  all  your  years. 

We  live  by  love  experienced  and  expressed: 

And  he  lives  most  who  in  his  spirit  rears 

A  shrine  of  admiration,  ever  blest, 

Since  love  and  utterance  are  the  soul's  eternal  quest. 


55 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIX 

"  May  it  be  true  that  his  clear  eyes  await 

On  earth  my  coming;  for  I  cannot  rest 

Though  aimless  be  my  search,  until  his  fate 

I  follow  to  the  end.     Presumptuous  quest! 

When  royal  minions  seize  and  hide,  unguessed 

Must  long  remain  concealment.    A  damp  cell 

May  prison  him.     He  may  the  mean  behest 

Of  swarthy,  tropic  races  serve,  or  dwell 

Beneath  cold  skies.     Which  way  to  seek  I  cannot  tell. 


XX 

The  girls  divided  then  their  white-robed  band: 
Some  eager  search  throughout  the  city  made; 
Some  stayed  behind;  while  one  with  lyre  in  hand, 
An  Ave's  pure,  pathetic,  pleading  played, 
Which  red  lips  chorused  as  her  fingers  strayed 
Among  the  strings,  till  lulled  to  brief  content 
His  head  sank  on  his  breast.     But  they  afraid 
To  stay  the  strains  that  such  oblivion  sent, 
A  tuneful,  happy  choir  about  his  slumbers  bent. 


56 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXI 

When  they,  poor  doves,  returned  and  brought  no  word 

From  fluttering  quest  along  the  city  street, 

For  tidings  of  the  child  had  no  one  heard, 

Then  Belisarius  roused  him  to  his  feet. 

They  slowly  led  him  from  his  calm  retreat, 

Walked  with  him  far  as  sounds  the  city  bell; 

His  helmet  heaped  with  flowers — roses  sweet, 

White  clematis,  pansies  and  asphodel, 

With  sprays  of  rosemary — then,  sadly  said  farewell. 


57 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


PART  IV 


O  Ostia  what  glories  thou  has  seen ! 
How  held  thy  lips  to  kiss  the  hero  home, 
Or  said  farewell  with  proud,  reluctant  mien 
To  argosies  whose  conquests  built  fair  Rome! 
Warm-bosomed  maids  along  thy  beach  have  come, 
Espying  for  a  sail  whose  purple  can 
Enkindle  cheeks  no  more,  that,  wet  with  foam, 
Wait  on  thy  strand,  where  Tiber's  umber  ran 
With  sluggish  coil  athwart  the  Mediterranean. 


II 

Upon  a  marble  mole  littered  with  wares, 

Rich-freighted  bales  of  foreign  luxury, 

Amid  confusion  of  strange  tongues  and  stares, 

Where  pulleys  creaked  and  men  tugged  sturdily. 

There  Belisarius  strayed.     He  could  not  see 

The  blue  waves'  glint  and  laughter  far  and  wide; 

But  heard  the  soft  repulse  against  the  quay 

Of  waves  importunate,  whose  tepid  tide 

Swashed  idly  'twixt  the  pier  and  vessels  at  its  side. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


III 

Before  his  stumbling  feet  they  smoothed  the  way. 

Some  knew  him  well;  but  even  strangers  felt 

He  was  a  man  to  glorify  the  day: 

One  that  in  dreams  of  world- wide  purpose  dwelt; 

On  equal  terms  with  kings  and  princes  dealt; 

Before  whose  face  all  fear  and  baseness  quailed; 

Whose  martial  deeds  in  deathless  bronze  were  spelt. 

As  some  with  joy  their  old  commander  hailed, 

All  ceased  their  sweaty  labor  and  his  steps  assailed. 


IV 

They  pressed  around  him  with  rough  sympathy, 

To  ask  his  weal,  of  his  adventures  hear, 

Or  clasp  and  kiss  his  hands  affectionately; 

While  many  a  bronzed  cheek  felt  the  helpless  tear, 

At  his  closed  eyes  that  like  the  dead  appear. 

In  words  alone  our  comfort  does  not  lie, 

A  friendly  touch  is  eloquent  to  cheer; 

For  hearts  can  speak  and  voiceless  make  reply 

But  some  to  gladden  him  with  friendly  converse  try. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


"  Bethinks  me,  master,  I  have  seen  thy  son. 

'Twas  as  I  crossed  the  mountains  driving  swine; 

Amongst  the  trees  and  every  way  they'd  run 

Than  straight  ahead.    Ah,  a  hard  lot  is  mine ! 

'Twas  then  I  met,  high  in  the  Apennine, 

A  drooping  file  of  prisoners,  old  and  young. 

From  neck  to  neck  a  chain  confined  the  line, 

Their  wasted  bodies  in  deep  languor  hung, 

Like  pendent  beads  that  on  this  pretty  chain  are  strung. 


VI 

"  The  swine  I've  sold  and  now  I  hasten  home, 

For  there  a  wife  and  child  are  waiting  me. 

Ha,  well  they  like  the  gifts  I  bring  from  Rome ! 

If  you  would  go  my  way  your  guide  I'll  be, 

Thrice  traveled  is  a  road  by  one  who  cannot  see." 

"  O  cease  thy  prattle,  fool,"  a  soldier  cried ; 

"  Know'st  thou  not  him  who  wrested  Italy 

Twice  out  of  Gothic  arms,  and  spurned  aside 

Rarenna's  crown,  else  he  had  been  our  king,  our  guide? 


60 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


VII 

"  Great  general,  we  live  in  bitter  days 
When  matchless  deeds  are  paid  with  matchless  pain. 
Yet  in  less  glorious  toil  and  humble  ways 
We  share  thy  burdens,  for  we  too  sustain 
Grave  wrongs.    Among  our  rulers  lust  of  gain 
Has  rusted  Roman  arms  and  robbed  the  poor. 
If  worth  did  rule  then  were  there  other  reign. 
Barbarian  vigor  thunders  at  our  door; 
But  pleasure,  ease,  vice,  greed  have  sapped  us  at  the 
core. 


VIII 

"  Rome  has  no  consuls  now,  Athens  no  schools 

Where  heavenly  learning  disenthralls  the  mind; 

For  tyranny  can  better  reign  o'er  fools 

And  strikes  at  knowledge  but  would  freedom  bind. 

Our  King's  religious  zeal  is  golden  rind 

To  nauseous  pulp.     His  pageants  for  the  crowd, 

His  bribery,  his  marriage  base  and  blind. 

Vesta  is  fled,  that  virgin-goddess  proud! 

For  a  deliverer  our  sad  times  cry  aloud. 


61 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


IX 

"  Despond  not,  Sire,  let  hope  still  conquer  fear, 
Though  constant  disappointment  you  have  known. 
A  man  has  often  searched,  year  after  year, 
A  hated  enemy  that  caused  him  moan, 
A  treasure  he  had  lost,  a  precious  stone; 
And  when  his  cheated  heart  did  almost  fail, 
There  stood  his  foe  whose  blood  did  straight  atone, 
There  flashed  the  gem  as  plain  as  polished  mail. 
Yes,  if  you  wish,  I  could  relate  a  curious  tale. 


"  'Twas  once  we  came  from  Egypt  with  rich  store 
Of  strange-wrought  Asian  silks  and  ivory, 
And  perfumes  such  that  should  you  chance  to  pour 
One  drop  upon  your  tunic  carelessly, 
Rose-drenched  'twould  be  as  Persian  poesy, 
And  pearls  and  spicery.     Our  way  seemed  laid 
Through  fragrant  Indian  groves  grown  from  the  sea. 
We  sailors  like  that  wealthy  Eastern  trade, 
Where  danger  and  despatch  a  double  wage  are  paid. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XI 

"  Our  little  fleet  fled  straight  across  the  sea. 

Within  one  vessel  rowed  my  dearest  friend, 

And  in  one  I.     Sometimes  so  near  were  we, 

He  broke  the  eddies  that  my  oar  would  send 

A-swirling  back,  or  in  our  songs  could  blend 

His  distant  echoing  voice.    We  laughed  and  knew 

Each  other's  thought  and  wished  the  voyage  would  end. 

So  all  went  merrily  amongst  the  crew; 

The  captain  oft,  however,  would  the  broad  sea  view. 


XII 

"  But  as  we  passed  the  straits  of  Sicily, 
Bound  on  to  Gaul,  outleaped  from  hidden  cave, 
A  galley  black  and  lashed  to  foam  the  sea, 
Like  a  dark  storm  with  white  feet  in  the  wave. 
Alas !  what  could  our  precious  cargoes  save  ? 
Each  separate  ship  in  flight  took  different  way; 
Then  one  alone,  perchance,  would  he  enslave. 
Soon  night  descending  covered  our  dismay; 
But  all  the  sea  gleamed  bare,  when  once  more  dawned 
the  day. 


63 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIII 

"  Our  oars  fell  heavy  toward  our  destined  port, 
Our  goods  unloaded,  still  we  waited  there, 
Among  the  wharves  where   sailor-men  resort, 
Word  passed  of  ships  escaped  the  pirate's  lair; 
At  last  one  came,  hut  did  not  my  friend  bear. 
Then  vowed  I  search  for  him  until  the  grave; 
No  home  had  we  to  which  we  could  repair, — 
A  sailor's  home  shifts  like  the  restless  wave — 
I  could  not  think  him  dead  or  that  he  was  a  slave. 


XIV 

"  For  years  I  searched  for  him  but  naught  availed. 

To  many  ports  and  favorite  haunts  I  went, 

The  watery  limit  of  the  world  I  sailed; 

But  none  could  give  my  search  encouragement. 

At  length  my  steps  to  Italy  I  bent 

And  for  the  Emperor  fought  the  Gothic  wars. 

There  all  went  wrong  until  Justinian  sent 

You,  Sire,  who  gave  life  to  our  desperate  cause 

And  lured  the  dullard  Goth  within  our  eagles'  claws. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XV 

"  O  what  a  memorable  day  was  that 

Ravenna  broke  her  gates  to  our  meagre  rank! 

The  Gothic  women,  in  derision,  spat 

Upon  their  men,  whose  bulky  bodies  shrank 

Away  as  we  rode  by  with  martial  clank. 

'  These  pigmy  men — are  they  your  conquerors  ? 

These  puny-limbed  are  Romans?    Ah,  what  prank 

Have  they  played  on  you  ?    O  ye  coward  curs  ?  ' 

There  stood  my  mate  a-mocking  at  my  bow  and  spurs.' 


XVI 

Loud  laughed  his  hearers  at  this  happy  end, 

As  to  each  heart  some  gracious  memory  sped. 

"  Life  has  no  greater  blessing  than  a  friend," 

A  young  Greek  cried,  "  'Tis  folly  makes  men  wed." 

Then  others  spoke,  but  one  old  sailor  said, 

"  Aye,  surely,  Sir,  the  child  you  soon  will  greet, 

By  mystic  power  you  will  to  him  be  led, 

As  I  have  seen  in  a  becalmed  fleet 

Two  vessels  drift  and  drift  unguided  till  they  meet.' 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XVII 

Another  cried,  "  One  thought  should  give  you  joy, 

Your  years  of  service  have  enriched  the  state, 

And  though,  unhavened,  you  still  seek  the  boy, 

The  past,  unalterable,  proclaims  you  great. 

Was  it  a  slight  thing,  General,  to  abate 

The  Persian,  Vandal,  Gothic  insolence, 

Win  Africa  and  Italy,  create 

New  honors  for  old  shame  and  impotence? 

Thou  our  deliverer  art;  thy  fame  is  our  defense." 


XVIII 

Then  he :  "  Once  my  own  thought  could  gladden  me, 

A  tropic  garden  that  no  winter  chilled, 

Where  quiet  reigned  amid  war's  butchery, 

A  safe  retreat  with  love  and  sweetness  filled. 

All  this  has  passed  away.     Now  I  am  thrilled 

To  sudden  pangs  by  thought,  yet  woo  the  blade's 

Envenomed  wound,  like  priests  whose  blood  is  spilled 

By  casting  upon  knives  in  India's  glades, 

Whose  comfort  is  their  pain,  who  quicken  as  life  fades. 


66 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIX 

"  Fame  is  a  fire  upon  a  mountain  top, 

Kindled  by  climbers  who  have  reached  the  height, 

To  signal  friends  who  in  home  valleys  stop, 

That  they  have  touched  the  goal.     Throughout  the  night 

The  beacon  flames — no  star  so  large,  so  bright — 

Heaped  with  dead  limbs,  by  chilly  watchers  fed; 

But  ere  the  morning  star  has  dimmed  its  light, 

Charred  sticks  alone  remain.     The  climbers  fled, 

Now  dare  more  dangerous  peaks,  or  seek  a  weary  bed. 


XX 

"  Then,  too,  I  see  that  fame  feeds  not  the  heart, 
That  great  deeds  often  sicken  on  the  mind, 
Seem  small,  what  any  might  have  done,  impart 
No  strength  or  joy  in  grief,  nor  sight  when  blind. 
But  heaven  and  earth  to  me  are  not  unkind. 
Great  sorrow  is  for  man  a  common  case. 
Youth  stumbles,  age  expects  its  way  to  find." 
He  ceased  and  one  said,  peering  in  his  face: 
"  I  saw  a  boy,  I  think,  born  of  your  lion  race. 


67 


The  Search  of  Beiisarius 


XXI 

"  You  know  the  route  from  Rhodes  to  Bosphorus  ? 

We  touched  at  Delos,  sacred  isle,  for  stone, — 

White  columns, — a  Byzantium  roof  to  truss — 

The  ruin  of  an  ancient  shrine  o'erthrown, 

Whose  golden  gates  Apollo's  face  had  known. 

Low  in  the  water  sunk  our  burdened  keel 

With  frieze  and  capital;  nor  these  alone: 

A  godlike  form  the  delved  earth  did  reveal, 

With  brightly  regnant  brows  to  nod  to  man's  appeal. 


XXII 

"  We  did  not  dare  for  other  treasure  stay, 

Oft  trembling  when  we  heard  Apollo's  wail 

Burst  out  in  pain  high  up  where  Cynthus  lay, 

Echo  afar,  then  die  deep  in  the  vale. 

We  fled  in  terror,  set  our  fluttering  sail, 

And  rowed  in  haste  from  land;  but  from  the  shore 

Came  fitful  moans  that  caused  our  hearts  to  quail, 

To  think  the  gloomy  fate  that  great  god  bore. 

O  Christ !  art  Thou  our  God,  as  he  was  god  of  yore  ? 


68 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXIII 

"  We  rowed  us  hard  and  weary  were  our  arms, 

When  on  our  ears  a  sea-born  music  fell, 

That  soothed  our  aches  like  magic  Eastern  balms, 

Or  like  the  poppy  flowers  that  Indians  smell. 

Perplexed  I  turned  and  saw  whence  came  the  spell. 

A  galley  sailing  on  the  sunny  sea; 

Along  her  side,  like  sea-weed  from  the  shell 

Of  floating  nautilus,  young  boys  in  glee, 

Trailed  ribbons  bright  and  some  made  music  heavenly. 


XXIV 

"  We  stopped  us  both  for  they  asked  news  from  Rhodes. 

The  pretty  passengers  we  quickly  found 

Deluded  captives  far  from  loved  abodes, — 

I  thought  them  Lydian  from  their  tongues'  soft  sound, — 

To  some  slave  market  in  Cilicia  bound. 

And  yet  they  laughed  and  shouted,  danced  and  sang! 

While  sylvan  flutes  did  strange  sea-songs  resound, 

That  made  my  soul  sad  with  a  nameless  pang, 

As  though  the  Sirens'  voices  o'er  the  water  rang. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXV 

"  Side  joined  to  side  we  rocked  a-drift  awhile 

And  in  the  shadow  of  our  spread  sails  lay. 

The  boys,  meantime,  our  leisure  did  beguile 

With  graceful  dances  and  with  music  gay. 

I  noticed  one  who  seemed  to  scorn  their  play: 

He  held  a  well-worn  scroll  and  tried  to  read; 

But  when  we  spoke  he  often  glanced  our  way. 

A  gem  he  looked,  lost  in  a  chest  of  seed, 

His  eyes  lit  with  the  prophecy  of  some  great  deed. 


XXVI 

"  But  when  the  western  sky  began  to  pale, 
We  loosed  us  from  our  merry  company, 
We  north,  they  south,  each  on  his  course  did  saiL 
Ere  'twixt  our  rudders  yawned  the  waves  to  me, 
I  saw  the  boy  spring  to  his  feet  and  flee, 
His  clinging  robes  from  off  his  shoulders  shake, 
Dash  to  the  stern  and  leap  far  in  the  sea; 
Nor  did  he  cut  ten  strokes  in  our  white  wake, 
When  their  swift,  hungry  prow  did  his  slim  arms  o'er- 
take." 


70 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXVII 

"  A  strain  of  hope  is  thine  as  rapturous 

As  those  that  thrill  our  hearts  that  morn  in  Spring 

When  first  returning  birds  awaken  us, 

To  unaccustomed  ears  divinely  sing, 

And  to  our  dream  a  summer  gladness  bring. 

Or  like  the  little  leafage  April  shows, 

When  mid  new  mazes  we  walk  wondering, 

Surprised  at  shadows  the  fresh  foliage  throws." 

Thus  Belisarius  applauds  the  story's  close. 


XXVIII 

Then  came  a  captain  up,  a  swarthy  man, 
Whose  wrinkled  lids  half  hid  his  sparkling  eyes; 
For  all  day  long  the  bright  sea  he  did  scan, 
And  like  an  eagle  understood  the  skies, 
To  portent  storm  or  gale  he  was  most  wise, 
When  he  espied  the  one  they  crowded  near, 
He  pressed  his  way,  exclaiming  in  surprise: 
"  O  Belisarius,  great  captain,  dear 

To  me  as  life,  what  treacherous  fortune  brought  you 
here?" 


71 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXIX 

He  listening  smiled ;  "  Ah,  that  is  Gaius'  voice, 
Hoarse  from  disputing  with  the  roaring  sea 
And  choked  with  chilly  fog.     How  I  rejoice 
That  my  old  pilot  stands  once  more  by  me! 
One  sound  I  treasure  like  the  sole-wrought  key 
To  endless  gold,  but  that  I  never  hear, 
Nor  know  if  others  hear.    Would  I  could  see 
Thy  shrewd,  scarred  face  again,  or  greet  the  year 
When  you  my  red-sailed  ship's  adventurous  course  did 
steer." 


XXX 

"  Still,  Belisarius,  I  fare  by  sea, 

As  when  I  steered  thy  ship  first  in  the  fleet 

Against  the  Vandal's  hot  hostility; 

When  from  the  north  we  swept  like  wintry  sleet 

And  quenched  King  Gelimer's  barbarous  Afric  heat. 

Tomorrow  eastward  my  own  ship  will  go; 

Again  would  I  thy  loved  command  repeat, 

Although  we  sail  against  no  vigorous  foe, 

But  for  the  child  whose  infant  face  I  used  to  know.' 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


PART    V 


They  fashioned  at  the  stern  a  stately  seat 
To  overlook  the  waters  far  ahead, 
A  lamb's  warm  fleece  they  placed  beneath  his  feet, 
And  overhead  a  canvas  screen  they  spread, 
There  he  could  sit  and  feel  how  fast  they  sped. 
Before  him  two-score  sturdy  rowers  sat, 
While  from  the  masts  rough  sails  of  faded  red, 
Once  dyed  in  precious  juice  of  Tyrian  vat, 
Swelled,  sumptuous-breasted,  like  the  bird  of  Ararat. 


II 

With  pillowed  shoulders  Belisarius  dreamed, 

While  rhythmic  oars  propelled  the  hissing  prow. 

Like  one  renewed  in  youth  the  captain  seemed 

Glad  by  his  side:  But  lo!  he  murmurs  now: 

"  O  wandering  wind,  whispering  around  my  brow, 

Whence  come  you  with  your  burden  of  complaint? 

What  message  or  what  mourning  bearest  thou? 

What  mean  your  sighs?    Hast  seen  his  harsh  constraint? 

O  speak,  if  e'er  you  spoke  to  oracle  or  saint." 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


III 

In  years  long  past  his  thoughts  were  wandering. 
He  saw  his  boy,  a  baby  with  his  nurse, 
When  he  came  home  from  council  with  the  king. 
War  plans  to  those  small  ears  would  he  rehearse. 
Invoke  upon  the  infant  head  Rome's  curse, 
If  he  should  in  her  enemies  confide 
And  her  deceived  squadrons  meet  reverse. 
Sometimes  alone  with  deep  looks  he  replied, 
Or  leaping,  smote  his   beard  and  with  small  laughter 
cried. 


IV 

He  saw  the  growing  boy  wax  wise  and  kind, 

With  unabashed  clear  eyes  and  gentle  thought; 

He  saw  the  rich  unfolding  of  his  mind 

That  gladly  learned  what  those  he  honored  taught. 

For  noble  visions  were  his  mind's  resort; 

His  very  playthings  had  high  courage  earned, 

Trophies  of  kings  with  whom  his  father  fought. 

Yes,  in  his  eyes  the  hero's  fire  burned. 

But  Belisarius  sighed  and  from  his  dreaming  turned. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


"  I  feel  the  burning  wind  of  Africa, 
The  desert's  breath  blow  on  me,  as  of  yore 
It  parched  us  marching  in  Numidia, 
When  Gelimer's  troops  fled  our  arms  before. 
Ho,  Gaius !     Can  you  see  the  Vandal  shore ; 
The  towered  palace  where  we  victors  dined, 
A  banquet  spread  for  him  who  came  no  more? 
Or  find  the  mountain  fortress  where  he  pined? 
This   blast  inflames   my   blood,  though   I   am   old   and 
blind." 


VI 

"  Yes,  Sire,  I  see  land  dimly  on  the  right; 

That  cape  juts  out  where  we,  nigh  wrecked,  made  land 

With  anxious  hearts  one  dark  and  stormy  night. 

Carthage  was  thought  secure,  a  little  band 

We  warred  in  Sicily.     None  could  withstand 

Our  arms,  when  sudden  news  of  mutiny 

Was  brought     You  seized  a  skiff  that  came  to  hand, 

Barely  attended  dared  a  raging  sea, 

And  dawned  with  quelling  glance  on  their  inconstancy." 


75 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


VII 

Quick  from  the  rowers  came  tumultuous  cries, 
"  Glory  of  Rome,  Glory  of  Rome  art  thou ! 
Arise,  O  Belisarius,  arise! 
Complete  thy  deeds  with  final  triumphs  now, 
The  crown  of  Rome  is  waiting  for  thy  brow !  " 
Then  motionless  the  oars  dripped  in  the  sea, 
The  sails  were  quickly  furled,  the  foaming  prow 
Swung  to  the  wind  and  stopped;  upon  his  knee 
Old  Gaius  fell  and  every  voice  enforced  his  plea. 


VIII 

"  Yes,  surely  are  we  blessed  above  all  men 

On  whom  to-day  the  sun  pours  down  its  light, 

For  him  that  heaven  sent  to  rouse  again 

Our  Rome  from  out  her  long  and  starless  night, 

We  now  can  row,  as  he  sits  in  our  sight. 

We  now  can  serve  and  serve  our  land  as  well. 

Glory  of  Rome,  for  thee  our  hands  would  fight 

New  battles  waged  against  those  powers  of  Hell 

That  ruled  our  lives  and  homes :  'tis  time  our  souls  rebel. 


76 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


IX 

"  O  be  our  king!    What  matter  thou  art  blind? 

Lo,  Buzes,  whom  the  Empress  robbed  of  sight, 

Still  led  the  legions;  but  be  thou  our  mind 

To  plan  and  rule,  we'll  be  thy  hands  to  fight. 

Rome  is  thy  city  by  divinest  right; 

'Twas  thou  who  saved  it  from  mad,  Gothic  flame, 

When  dull  rage  menaced  it  and  vengeful  spite. 

Constantinople  thine  arm  did  reclaim 

From  circus  mob  and  Hun, — thou  art  king  but  in  name. 


X 

"  We  now  are  few,  but  soon  a  vast  array 

Shall  flock  in  arms  to  thee  and  for  thy  cause; 

Bestow  their  wealth  and  thy  commands  obey. 

Justinian  gave  small  help  in  all  thy  wars. 

Aye,  often  victory's  outstretched  hands  did  pause 

Held  by  thinned  ranks.    The  world  ne'er  saw,  till  thee, 

One  win  with  so  few  troops  and  from  the  jaws 

Of  numbers,  pluck  the  prize  by  strategy. 

Thy  wisdom,  daring,  swiftness  gained  us  victory." 


77 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XI 

They  waited  breathless  for  his  lips  to  speak 

And  echo  back  the  cry  of  their  desire. 

Far  in  his  soul  their  words  an  answer  seek, 

His  ears  alone  feel  not  their  winged  fire. 

Should  he — cast  out  and  trodden  in  the  mire — 

Rise  up  at  last  like  the  blind  Israelite, 

Letting  revenge  with  time  and  place  conspire, 

Supremely  prove  the  giant  power  they  slight, 

And  perish  with  his  foes  ?    He  spoke  with  visage  bright. 


XII 

"  O  God  of  hosts,  at  last  my  hour  has  come, 

And  vengeance  beckoning  holds  her  hands  to  me, 

Bidding  me  arm  to  rescue  helpless  Rome; 

For  my  own  wrongs  wreak  bloody  penalty, 

And  pay  poor  patience  coin  that  all  can  see. 

Do  your  swoll'n  veins,  indeed,  hold  Roman  blood, 

Blood  you  would  shed  to  reap  rich  victory? 

Can  you  continue  in  this  noble  mood, 

Until  we  sweep  away  the  useless,  tyrant  brood? 


78 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIII 

"  No !     Such  revolt  could  naught  but  evil  teach. 

From  grade  to  grade  authority  is  swayed, 

The  public  weal  is  reverence  due  by  each 

To  those  above  with  heavenly  might  arrayed, 

And  chaos  is  that  power  disobeyed. 

My  Lord  the  King  still  has  my  loyal  heart, 

My  pledge  that  lip  and  deed  alike  conveyed 

To  make  no  revolution,  nor  to  part 

His  empire  while  he  lived."    Afresh  their  clamors  start. 


XIV 

"  Our  courage  is  not  quenched,  Rome  still  doth  stand; 
Our  King  forgets;  our  lords  with  public  spoil 
Enrich  themselves,  impoverishing  the  land; 
The  army,  Rome's  defense,  for  all  its  toil, 
Is  robbed  of  its  just  wages;  while  the  coil 
Of  barbarous  might  is  tighter  drawn  around 
Our  yielding  limbs.     Soon  will  our  native  soil 
Bear  uncouth  names,  our  children's  children,  bound 
In  liege  to  foreign  lords,  be  bond-slaves  of  the  ground. 


79 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XV 

"  What!    Would  I  plunge  the  world  in  greater  ill 

To  sate  my  pride,  uncertain  if  release 

Could  now  be  found  from  various  woes  that  fill 

The  state  with  complications  sore?     For  peace, 

When  there  are  wrongs  that  threaten  to  increase, 

Is  preferable  to  war,  which  oft  would  seem 

Impatiently  to  snatch  at  ill's  surcease, 

Majestic  time  bears  on  its  steady  stream, 

Would  man  but  wait  and  his  purged  heart  redeem. 


XVI 

"  'Tis  sweet  to  feed  on  praise  and  men's  applause, 

Triumphantly  upborne  to  grasp  new  bays, 

By  arms  made  willing  in  successful  wars; 

For  praise  gives  power.     I've  heard  one  sing  his  lays 

Before  the  Queen,  until  her  eyes  ablaze, 

Warmed  him  to  raptures  of  undreamt-of  song. 

But  it  is  sweeter  living  scorned  by  praise, 

Thrust  back  where  all  enduring  powers  belong, — 

Upon  the  soul  and  God, — serene,  illumined,  strong. 


80 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XVII 

"Ah,  wretched  is  the  man  who  has  survived 

His  power  to  serve  his  fellows,  and  whose  deeds, 

A   fortress  once  in  which  a  nation  lived, 

Have  crumbled  to  the  dust.     His  country's  needs, 

His  impotence  he  mourns;  but  death  still  leads 

Him  on;  he  may  not  turn  his  wasted  days 

To  live  again,  or  build  the  walls  that  weeds 

Have  overcome.     Blessed  are  the  blind  whose  ways 

Are  dark,  and  cannot  see  the  wrongs  the  world  displays. 


XVIII 

"  Arms  cannot  strive  against  eternal  laws, 

And  whom  God  hath  dethroned,  man  cannot  crown 

Ensceptred  by  vain  might.     So  rash  are  wars 

'Twixt  God  and  man,   and   armored  might   o'erthrown 

At  heaven's  holy  will.     Nor  can  force'  frown 

Fright  righteousness,  triumphant  age  by  age; 

Vain  is  the  spoil,  his  triumph  soon  cast  down, 

Whose  sword  has  vanquished  truth,  whose  bloody  gage 

Is  cast  at  angels'  feet  in  evil's  fitful  rage. 


81 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIX 

"  Inscrutable  are  heaven's  ways  to  men, 

Unless  it  be  our  woes  are  all  deserved, 

And  fortune,  stricken,  never  smiles  again, 

And  bolts  that  fly  from  evil's  bow,  though  curved 

In  flight  o'er  many  years,  at  last  unswerved 

Descend  upon  mankind.     O  fateful  flight 

Of  wrongs  from  other  years  !     The  state  once  nerved 

To  justice,  conquest,  grandeur, — now,  sad  sight, 

Relaxed,  enfeebled,  slumbers  in  unhonored  night. 


XX 

"  Is  there  no  certain  medicine  for  sin? 

O  Christ,  where  is  the  antidote  you  brought? 

Or  had  the  poison  pierced  too  deep  within, 

When  our  sick  state  thy  gentle  presence  sought 

And  drank  thy  cup?     Must   Rome's   strength  come  to 

naught  ? 

Can  patriot  blood  be  spilled,  and  all  in  vain? 
Can  that  great  empire  fall  our  sires  bought, 
And  Scipio's,  Sulla's,  Caesar's,  Trajan's  gain 
Be  spent,  till  naught  of  their  rich  heritage  remain? 


82 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXI 

"  A  father's  valor  cannot  save  his  son, 

Nor  buried  virtue  hinder  living  vice; 

And  woe  befalls  the  empire  that  begun 

Austerely,  reared  by  long  self-sacrifice, 

Whose  wealth  and  power  are  the  tardy  price 

Of  moral  worth,  descends  to  progeny, 

Who,  blind  to  all  that  gained  their  paradise, 

Devour  the  fruit  and  sap  the  golden  tree, 

Watered  by  tears  and  blood  of  their  stern  ancestry. 


XXII 

"  Hell  has  its  laws,  as  blind  old  Homer  sang, 
And  punishment  walks  ever  with  the  crime; 
Above  the  world  the  scales  of  Justice  hang, 
Slow  filling  till  they  fall  in  their  due  time. 
The  course  is  finished  of  our  race  sublime, 
Our  exaltation  droops,  for  God,  I  see, 
Would  choose  His  leaders  from  another  clime, 
Whose  forest  strength  and  northern  purity 
Will  crown  with  hardier  virtues  a  new  regency. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXIII 

"  Now  Rome  flows  on  amid  a  mighty  wreck, 

A  shrunken  mountain  stream,  that,  in  the  Spring, 

Rolled  down  a  flood  no  barrier  could  check 

And  ruled  the  banks  would  curb  its  wandering. 

When  August  burns  and  hot  cicadas  sing 

And  wells  dry  up,  the  braggart  torrent's  flow 

Withdraws  its  marge  and  its  wide  governing; 

A  plaintive  brook  it  creeps,  thin-limbed  and  slow, 

Past  rocks  and  uptorn  trees  it  once  did  overthrow. 


XXIV 

"  My  ears  can  hear  the  undertone  of  life, 

The  joy,  the  woe,  the  wonder  and  the  prayer, 

I  could  not  hear  amid  the  din  of  strife. 

My  life  of  action  now  of  deeds  is  bare, 

And  thought  and  silence  are  joint  rulers  there. 

Yes,  I  can  hear  afar  the  triumph-song 

Of  ages  unoppressed  by  king  or  care, 

And  I  discern  a  gladly  laboring  throng, 

Where  each  bestows  his  toil  as  he  is  wise  and  strong. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXV 

"  Bid  my  son  learn  one  lesson  from  my  fall ! 

Mid  cries  of  circling  vultures,  grunts  of  swine, 

The  taints  of  tongue  which  love  and  faith  appall, 

Poisoning  men's  quarrels,  fouling  friendship's  wine, 

Recrimination's  Hell,  where  no  stars  shine, 

Bid  him  be  silent !     I  would  have  him  still 

As  Christ  before  his  judges.     Yes,  divine 

In  being  dumb,  whom  guiltless  they  would  kill. 

Who  saw  no  right  on  earth,  and  waited  God's  good-will. 


XXVI 

"  So  take  you  oars  for  me  nor  wish  them  spears, 

This  is  a  time  to  bear  and  not  to  do; 

But  keep  large-hearted  till  the  hour  appears 

When  Rome's  dimmed  name  ye  can  again  renew." 

He  finished  and  a  moan  burst  from  the  crew, 

The  clattering  oars  splashed  nerveless  in  the  wave. 

"  Ah,  life  to  us  is  darker  than  to  you, 

Who  speak  with  awful  tone  as  from  the  grave; 

Yet  will  not  up  and  arm,  your  pleading  land  to  save. 


85 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXVII 

"  We  love  that  man  whom  place  cannot  adorn, 
Who  baffles  honors  by  his  brighter  face, 
And,  pedestaled  on  deeds,  beholds  with  scorn 
That  wreath  the  world  on  tip-toe  strains  to  place 
Upon  his  brow.    And  yet  Rome's  crown  can  grace 
White  temples  pure  as  thine;  for  it  was  won 
By  mighty  dead  of  high,  immortal  race. 
They  call  to  you,  their  last  remaining  son, 
To  save  and  raise  the  state  by  heroes'  toil  begun." 


XXVIII 

Then  Caius  spoke :  "  See,  master,  yonder  sail 
Deep-hulled  Calabrian  ships,  filled  full  of  grain 
To  feed  the  Emperor's  store.     Should  they  but  fail 
To  land  their  golden  freight,  panic  would  reign 
And  hunger  pinch  the  mob,  naught  could  restrain 
From  wide  revolt.     I  know  who  sail  in  these; 
Each  prow  would  turn  and  follow  in  thy  train, 
War's  joys  would  substitute  for  traffic  ease, 
Were  thy  great  name  and  need  borne  to  them  on  the 
breeze." 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXIX 

"  Dost  thou  forget  so  soon,  thou  eagle-eyed, 

My  eyes  are  curtained  in  Cimmerian  night. 

No  sailor  asks  sheer  darkness  for  his  guide — 

Who  cannot  see  could  never  lead  aright. 

What  would  you  do?  those  toiling  thousands  blight; 

Fatten  my  fame  on  others'  famishing? 

Too  much  vain  blood  I've  shed  to  trust  in  might 

Truth  must  prevail  as  flowers  are  born  in  Spring, 

By  its  own  life  from  God,  bloom  a  victorious  thing." 


XXX 

The  grain-ships  with  slow  oarage'  measured  gleam, 

Sailed  out  of  reach  of  signal  or  halloo: 

The  rowers  rowed  like  men  roused  from  a  dream, 

A  glory  gone  time  never  would  renew. 

As  from  a  temple,  the  high  service  through, 

White  choirs  proceed,  chanting  a  sweet  refrain, 

And  with  far,  fainter  voices,  pass  from  view; 

The  worshipers  rapt  each  in  heaven  remain, 

Then,  in  the  stillness,  wake  to  life's  chill  touch  again. 


87 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


PART    VI 


A  road   ascended  from   Cilicia's   fens 
To  gain  the  mountains,  sought  in  summer  days 
For  cool  resort  by  seaport  citizens. 
A  winding  road,  whose  leaf-embowered  ways 
Caught  frequent  glimpses  of  the  sea's  bright  gaze. 
Here  Belisarius  climbed,  for  he  had  heard, 
Through  secret  source  though  certain,  news  to  raise 
Assurance  of  sweet  meeting  long  deferred; 
And  now  he  seeks  the  tryst  of  which  they  brought  him 
word. 


II 

From  out  a  cavern  came  a  holy  man, 

Emaciate,  cowled,  unkempt,  and  woebegone, 

And  kneeling  at  a  cross,  his  prayer  began, 

The  saddest  man  he  seemed  the  sun  shone  on; 

For  food  he  cared  not,  nor  rich  dress  to  don; 

But  prayed,  toiled,  fasted  that  he  might  o'ercome 

All  fleshly  lusts  and,  in  his  fight,  had  won. 

As  weak  and  wan  he  was  as  Saint  Jerome, 

Who  in  the  cave  at  Bethlehem,  once  made  his  home. 


88 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


III 

His  eyes  were  open,  but  he  did  not  see 

The  sky  above,  the  blue  flood  far  below. 

As  through  an  open  door  he  saw  but  Thee, 

O  Father,  who  all  hearts  and  secrets  know. 

Speechless  he  gazed,  his  prayer  was  oftenest  so. 

Then,  as  a  shadow  blots  a  summer  day, 

His  rapture  faded  back  to  earth  and  woe. 

His  startled  ear  had  heard,  to  his  dismay, 

A  groping  step  that  climbed  his  steep  and  unused  way. 


IV 


Dazed  with  his  vision  was  the  holy  man, 
But  statelier  bearing  had  he  never  seen 
And  nobler  features  did  he  never  scan 
Than  his,  who  now  advanced  with  lordly  mien. 
A  heavenly  visitor  he  might  have  been; 
Bare  was  his  snowy  head,  his  feet  were  bare; 
From  neck  to  knee  a  tunic,  rent  and  mean, 
Girt  at  his  supple  waist,  and  hanging  there, 
A  helmet,  gold-embossed,  fit  for  a  king  to  wear. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


A  sapling  staff  now  in  his  hand  he  bore, 
That,  swinging  here  and  there,  free  passage  found, 
Through  which  he  moved  along  with  footstep  sore. 
This  sight  the  simple  monk  did  so  astound, 
That  by  the  cross  he  knelt  as  though  spellbound. 
If  not  from  heaven,  on  earth  there  was  but  one 
The  visitor  could  be,  so  visibly  renowned. 
He  straightway  rose  and  reverent  as  a  son, 
Saluted  and  embraced  Rome's  loved,  lost  champion. 


VI 

"  Is  this  that  Belisarius  the  great, 

Swift  conqueror  of  nations  Rome  had  lost, 

The  very  wall  and  weapon  of  the  state; 

Whose  patriot  plans  were  by  suspicion  crossed, 

Whose  deeds  were  blackened  by  disfavor's  frost? 

A  lonely  man  am  I  who  speak  to  thee. 

Would  I  could  talk  with  tongues  of  Pentecost, 

So  I  might  tell  thee  of  my  sympathy; 

For  God  it  was,  I  know,  who  led  thy  steps  to  me. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


VII 

"  I  welcome  thee  to  a  rich  solitude; 
Rest  for  thy  body  and  thy  soul  is  here. 
The  fickle  world  these  heights  will  not  intrude, 
Naught  from  its  favor  or  its  scorn  I  fear. 
And  thou  who  in  the  wide  world  had  no  peer, 
In  power,  wealth,  or  honor  save  the  king, 
Hast  found  triumphal  garlands  harsh  and  sere, 
Soon  plucked  away,  a  moment's  offering. 
Now  that  ambition  mocks  thee,  seek  what  prayer  will 
bring." 


VIII 

Then  Belisarius  musing,  spoke  at  length. 

"  O  man  of  God,  thou'rt  wise  I  make  no  doubt, 

To  flee  foes  that  outnumber  thy  frail  strength, 

Lest  they  o'erwhelm  thee  in  disastrous  rout. 

Prayer  is  a  deed  no  man  can  do  without. 

Our  senses,  too,  would  swill  themselves  like  swine; 

While  vanity  and  pride  drive  us  about, 

Absorbed  in  self,  forgetting  the  divine. 

Yes,  gladly  one  would  find  calm  worship  such  as  thine. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


IX 

"  I  have  not  lived  in  warfare  not  to  learn 

To  stand  where  others  flee,  to  dare  their  dread, 

Cool  mutiny  to  well-armed  zeal,  nor  turn, 

Disheartened,  when  the  timid  round  me  fled. 

Love,  fame,  applause;  and  worse,  power,  gold  have  sped 

Men  toward  great  deeds :  but  God  is  often  pleased 

To  snatch  the  spur  that  drove  a  man  ahead, 

Then  bid  him  win.     The  prize  He  does  not  seize. 

Life  knows,  I  think,  no  failure  but  a  soul  diseased. 


"  No,  I  must  follow  my  own  glimpse  of  God, 
Which  bids  me  not  with  laceration  rude, 
And  self-infliction's   penitential  rod, 
Nor  fasting  from  the  earth's  more  gracious  food, 
Find  heaven  in  hungry  weakness'  passive  mood. 
Poor  soldiers  they  against  the  power  of  Hell, 
Who  hide  in  cave  or  desert,  when  the  brood 
Assailing  Heaven  scorn  walls.     No!  fight  their  spell 
In  life's  least  duty,  rather  than  in  lonely  cell. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XI 

"  That  slave  I  should  esteem  of  little  worth, 
To  meet  the  Vandal,  through  the  Goths  advance, 
Or  shield  Rome's  tenderness  from  the  grim  north, 
Who  in  his  master's  courtyard  threw  a  lance, 
Or  pranced  against  the  boys  with  threatening  glance, 
And  jumped  or  ran  or  shot  his  bow  in  air. 
For  war  sweeps  on  with  other  circumstance. 
Isaurianc,  who  their  mountain  perils  dare, 
Are  our  best  soldiers,  God's  are  those  their  homes  pre- 
pare. 


XII 

"  In  Italy  I  once  met  Benedict, 

Who  loved  good  learning  and  humanity, 

And  held  his  household  to  a  rule  most  strict; 

He  was  as  godly  man  as  well  could  be. 

And  yet,  for  all  of  that,  I'd  rather  see, 

Full  in  the  midst  of  life  and  all  its  dust, 

A  man  win  heaven  and  immortality, — 

As  husband,  father,   friend,  and  subject  just, — 

Finding  each  task  a  shrine,  willing  in  God  to  trust." 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIII 

Although  the  monk  his  own  vexed  body  fought, 

He  had  some  common  food  his  need  required, 

And  this  to  Belisarius  he  brought, 

Who  with  the  long  ascent  was  faint  and  tired. 

A  heavenly  gentleness  his  heart  inspired 

To  give  refreshment  to  his  warrior  guest, 

Who  soon  with  restless  energy  seemed  fired 

Impatient  to  pursue  his  brightening  quest; 

Until  the  goal  was  won,  there  was  no  time  for  rest. 


XIV 

"  Why  should  you  wish  the  child  to  be  alive? 
Happy  is  he  to  whom  the  world  is  dead. 
Have  you  secured  the  gauds  for  which  men  strive, 
That  now  you  wish  to  place  them  on  his  head? 
Who  dare  bequeath  his  days,  could  they  be  read, 
To  one  he  loved?     To  foes  they  might  apply. 
Who  could,  when  daily  his  own  heart  has  bled, 
Presume,  forgetful,  for  sons'  sons  to  sigh, 
When  disappointment  with  himself  had  better  die  ? 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XV 

"  Pain  is  the  lot  of  man,  his  constant  state. 
Pleasure  his  rare  release.     Unsatisfied 
Desire  and  longing  never  slaked  his  fate. 
Ambitious  flutterings,  heavenly  flight  denied; 
His  life  is  spent  in  struggles  multiplied 
To  stop  some  clamorous  need,  or  ease  some  pain. 
The  best  the  world  has  seen  was  crucified. 
Then  how  can  we  exempt  from  woe  remain, 
When  He,  the  Holy  One,  though  innocent  was  slain? 


XVI 

"  Forget  your  loss ;  worship  the  King  of  kings ; 

Win  Heaven's  love  now,  who  conquered  earth  below. 

Then  God  will  mitigate  your  sufferings 

And  change  to  gladness  what  were  else  your  woe." 

But  Belisarius  answered  him :  "  Ah,  no, 

I  am  too  old  thus  to  forget  my  son; 

Youth's  sorrows  pass.     With  age  it  is  not  so. 

Though  memory  may  fail  of  great  deeds  done, 

Grief,  loyal  to  white  locks,  stays  when  pale  pleasures  run. 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XVII 

"You  live  for  self  and  caU  it  soul.     No!     No! 
Dull  not  my  woes  by  balm  of  others'  pain. 
No  private  gloom  shall  its  black  mantle  throw 
O'er  life  itself,  where  light  seems  most  to  reign. 
Great  God,  what  wonders  earth  and  sky  contain! 
The  patient  beauty  of  the  land  and  sea, 
That  meekly  waits  like  a  forgotten  fane 
To  bless  who  comes;  and  our  humanity 
Heroic,  lovable  when  lit  by  gleams  of  Thee. 


XVIII 

"  Nature  knows  best,  who  bids  us  find  our  joy 

In  lives  united  that  new  lives  produce. 

And  nature  now  impels  me  seek  my  boy: 

A  father's  love  and  hope  need  no  excuse. 

If  love  can  from  a  youth's  hot  heart  break  loose, 

And,  searching,  find  incarnate  its  desire, 

Sweet  form  and  soul,  a  heaven  for  earthly  use, 

Shall  not  his  prayer  and  loathing  of  life's  mire, 

Beget  a  race  to  help  God's  plan  and  bless  its  sire? 


96 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIX 

"  Even  pain,  I  think,  may  be  the  firmer  clasp 
Of  some  strong  hand  thrust  out  to  rescue  us, 
Whose  rugged  might  encloses  in  its  grasp 
Our  weaker  fibre,  till  we  timorous, 
Blind  to  our  need  and  frail  to  be  held  thus, 
Cry  out  in  fear.     As  when  a  boy  holds  tight 
An  unfledged  bird,  quaking  and  querulous, 
Whose  yellow  throat  pours  out  its  pain  and  fright, 
To  thrust  back  in  the  nest  it  could  not  gain  by  flight. 


XX 

"  What  life  is  for,  nor  monks  nor  men  can  tell; 
Its  origin  and  end  we  do  not  know ; 
And  Heaven  is  incredible  as  Hell, 
Unless  in  both,  it  suits  the  soul  to  grow. 
But  we  can  worship  life — this  life  below — 
And  most  the  consciousness  called  you  and  I — 
That  magic  mirror  with  the  endless  show. 
A  soldier?     Yes.     Yet  I  hold  life  so  high, 
No  man,  I  think,  diseased,  wronged,  starved,  should  ask 
to  die. 


97 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXI 

"  High  on  the  jungled  mountains  of  far  Ind, 

Which  face  the  peaks  of  everlasting  snow, 

Tall,  yellow  grasses,  shaking  in  the  wind, 

Wave  paper  prayers  of  pilgrims  to  and  fro. 

Incessant  as  the  very  winds  that  blow, 

They  signal  heaven  and  give  their  gods  no  rest. 

Some  mind's  impatient  thirst,  a  soul's  deep  woe, 

Remorse  too  keen  for  lodgment  in  the  breast, 

Make  dumb  demand  by  day  and  night  that  they  be  blest. 


XXII 

"  But  every  leaf  the  summer  breezes  twirl, 

Dappled  with  sunlight,  glistening  after  rain; 

Sweet  purple  clover  that  warm  zephyrs  curl, 

To  tease  the  tilting  butterfly  of  gain; 

The  yellow  swaying  of  the  gust-swept  grain; 

The  wing-stirred  alders  by  still  meadow  stream, 

Are  heavenly  comforters  of  human  pain — 

God's  call  to  man  direct,  as  was  no  dream 

Or  awful  voice  to  ancient  prophets,  as  I  deem." 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXIII 

"  Listen,  great  Belisarius,  cans't  thou  hear, 
Above  the  murmur  of  the  brook  and  trees, 
Up  from  the  high-road,  as  the  troop  draws  near, 
A  pious  chanting,  wafted  on  the  breeze  ? 
Men's  voices  like  to  yours  and  mine  are  these, 
Of  flesh  and  blood,  of  mortal,  sinful  birth. 
They  have  surrendered  that  which  others  seize; 
Trampled  what  you  are  seeking;  sought  life's  dearth, 
And   lightly   scale   high   heaven,   discarding   things    of 
earth." 


A  Procession  of  Monks  in  the  distance  chanting. 

Hail!  Holy  Mother, 
Ruler  of  Heaven, 
Light  of  pure  bosoms, 
Giver  of  peace! 

See  our  starved  bodies' 
Rough,  ragged  raiment! 
Our  weary  eyelids, 
Our  naked  feet ! 


We  have  left  all  things, 
Parents,  wives,  children; 
Labor  that  blessed  them, 
Love's  anxious  pride. 

99 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


Earth  is  behind  us, 
Heaven  before  us. 
Steep  is  the  pathway, 
Dim  is  thy  face. 

Yet  we  behold  thee, 
Far  in  the  heavens, 
Mother  of  Jesus, 

Mother  of  God. 


XXIV 

When  he  would  stay  no  longer  and  was  fed, 

The  monk  clasped  gently  one  unconquered  wrist, 

And  down  the  mountain-side  his  slow  steps  led, 

Until  the  road  was  gained  the  wanderer  missed, 

Which  now  ere  long  would  bring  him  to  his  tryst. 

The  monk  did  not  for  pleasant  converse  lack; 

But  when  they  came  where  travellers  passed,  he  kissed 

The  hand  he  held  and  sadly  turned  him  back 

To  heaven  and  God  along  his  rough  and  single  track. 


100 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


PART    VII 


A  meadow  humbled  by  surrounding  hills, 

But  gay  with  common  flowers  and  feathery  grass, 

Where  early  shadows  drive  away  day's  ills, 

And  sweet  night  lingers — night  too  brief,  alas  ! 

Around  the  edge,  a  brook's  still  waters  pass, 

Like  brown  hair  curling  on  a  shawl  of  green, 

And  flows  into  a  pond  as  smooth  as  glass, 

Reflecting  forests  in  its  silver  sheen, 

Save  where  a  sandy  beach  is  bare  of  leafy  screen. 


II 

Here  of  a  summer  noon,  their  home  tasks  done, 

Boys  come  to  bathe  and  bask  in  naked  ease, 

Brown-bodied  from  bare  challenge  of  the  sun: 

They  dive  and  swim,  or  rest  with  wet,  clasped  knees, — 

Thin,  glistening  bodies,  stroked  by  gentle  breeze. 

Some  skip  smooth  stones;  some  tiny  galleys  sail; 

Run  races  in  the  grass,  or  bend  lithe  trees. 

Their  shouts  and  splashes  echoing  in  the  vale, 

Rouse  the  lone  heron's  flight  and  drive  the  startled  quail. 


101 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


III 

Upon  this  scene  blind  Belisarius  strayed, 

Along  a  road  that  crossed  the  winding  brook. 

He  heard  loud  laughter  where  the  bathers  played, 

And  stopped — his  wont,  when  children  he  o'ertook. 

With  jest  they  greeted  him  and  saucy  look; 

But  when  they  saw  his  eyes  that  could  not  see, 

His  soldier  mien  and  how  his  great  hands  shook, 

They  led  him  to  a  bank  beneath  a  tree 

And  begged  him  tell  them  tales  and  clung  about  his  knee. 


IV 

"  Children !     What  tale  shall  I  tell  ?     Shall  it  be 
Of  athletes,  horses,  war?     Of  young  men  strong 
Of  arm  to  loose  our  bows'  dread  archery; 
Their  life  a  restless  dream  to  right  the  wrong, 
And  gild  dull  days  with  deeds  worthy  of  song; 
Seated  between  arched  necks  and  flowing  tails, 
Of  young  horses — trained  without  bit  or  thong, 
To  follow  swift  arrows?     Of  Balan?     Time  fails 
To  tell  you  aught  of  him."     A  shout  his  subject  hails. 


102 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


I  never  saw  how  Cato,  quitting  Spain, 
Could  leave  his  horse  behind,  to  save  the  state 
His  keep  and  carriage  home.     The  mighty  mane, 
For  battle  braided, — tail  one  shining  plait — 
Torn  by  a  huckster's  harness;  his  high  gait 
Starved  to  a  goaded  crawl  until  he  dies. 
Black  Balan,  with  his  star,  was  worth  his  weight 
In  coin  stamped  with  kings'  heads :  so  brave  and  wise, 
He    Belisarius    saved,    when    foes    thought    him    their 
prize ! 


VI 

"  Our  general,  once  holding  Rome — the  Goth 
Driven  north,  soon  to  return  and  Rome  invest — 
A  tower  by  Tiber  built— fort,  picket,  both. 
One  morning  he  designed  this  place  to  test 
By  sudden  visit.     So  he  chose  the  best 
Of  his  own  guard,  all  horse,  and  started  out. 
I  feel — yes,  now — our  leader's  gleaming  crest, 
Dash  wayside,  almond  blossoms;  hear  our  shout, 
And  smell  the  brown,  spring  earth  delved  in  by  sodden 
lout. 


103 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


VII 

"  When  we  approached  the  tower,  to  our  surprise, 
We  saw  it  swarm  with  Goths.     Our  men  had  fled. 
Nay!  worse,  as  soon  we  found.     Before  our  eyes 
They  hurried  forth,  by  Gothic  chieftains  led, 
To  bar  retreat  and  capture  our  rash  head. 
But  we  pushed  on  against  their  traitor  bands 
And  barbarous  ranks.     Swift,  sure  our  arrows  sped, 
To  keep  them  where  they  could  not  use  their  hands, 
Or  even  reach  their  spears  and  dart  their  deadly  brands. 


VIII 

"  In  vain !    Too  few,  we  soon  were  close  engaged. 
They  clutched  our  horse,  like  hounds  a  huntsman  cheers. 
We  drove  on  madly,  like  wild  beasts  enraged, 
Stricken  on  thighs  and  faces  with  their  spears. 
One  cry  they  gave  brought  dread  to  Roman  ears. 
Deserters,  pointing,  shouted :  '  That  is  he — 
That  Belisarius,  where  Balan  rears. 
Seize  him!     Slay  him!     His  army  then  will  flee. 
And  Gothic  kings  forever  reign  in  Italy.' 


10* 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


IX 

"  At  last  our  lances  tamed  their  wild  attack 
And  drove  them  to  their  camp,  with  many  slain. 
But  reinforced,  they  turned  and  faced  us  back, 
Across  the  battle-strewn  and  dusty  plain — 
Their  fresh  arms  made  our  morning  victory  vain. 
Here  was  a  mess  for  Belisarius ! 
Could  our  outnumbered  ranks  retreat  maintain, 
Until  Rome's  walls  once  more  safe-harbored  us? 
Then  scoffed  their  tallest  chieftain  Bandalarius. 


"  '  Glory  of  Rome !     You've  seen  the  last  of  Rome 
And  Rome  of  you.     Yes,  now  our  women  haste 
To  right  our  houses  for  our  coming  home, 
And  bake  small  feasts  of  what  you  did  not  waste. 
From  loved  hands,  frugal  food  is  sweet  to  taste. 
To-night  they'll  sit  and  cheer  us  as  we  eat, 
With  arms  about  us,  hearing  how  we  chased 
Sly  Belisarius  to  death's  defeat — 
How  Gothic  chiefs  Byzantium's  strategy  did  cheat.' 


105 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XI 

"  On  every  side  we  fought,  but  moved  one  way; 
For  foot  by  foot  we  backed  o'er  bloody  ground, 
Desperate  to  reach  the  city  walls  by  day, 
And  not,  at  night,  outside  the  gates  be  found. 
At  dusk,  far  off  we  heard  the  church  bells'  sound, 
And  when  at  last  we  gained  our  goal, — the  gate 
Was  shut,  barred,  bolted,  and  though  spears  did  pound, 
And  hoarse  throats  shout,  its  hinges  did  not  grate: 
The  walls  of  Rome  heard  not  and  left  us  to  our  fate. 


XII 

"  Our  comrades,  safe  within,  supposed  us  dead, 

And  peering  at  us,  could  not  recognize 

Our  faces,  Belisarius'  bare  head. 

Blood,  sweat,  and  dirt  had  fashioned  such  disguise, 

They  guessed  us  Goths  bent  on  a  night  surprise. 

While  we  were  penned  between  the  Goths  and  gate, 

New  enemies  upon  the  walls  arise. 

Our  friends,  turned  foes,  dropped  stones  upon  our  pate. 

If  bad  before,  our  plight  was  now  thrice  desperate. 


106 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIII 

"  Three  things  we  could  attempt.    Fight  with  our  friends 
— Win  Rome  from  Romans — a  most  hopeless  thought; 
Or  laugh  that  at  Rome's  gate  Death  gained  his  ends ; 
At  last,  ensnared  in  this  black  pit,  had  caught 
Heroes  of  many  wars  he  long  had  sought: 
Or  turn  again  against  vainglorious  foes. 
Yes,  Belisarius  turned !     Ah !  how  he  fought 
In  that  dark  tangle,  cleaved  where  dimly  rose 
Horsed  Bandalarius,  whom  swords  and  spears  enclose. 


XIV 

"  The    world    stood    still    while    those    two    champions 

j  oined ; 

Kings  waked  from  evil  dreams  with  moist-browed  fear 
Of  soldiers'  tools  that  roofs  of  states  engroined, 
Snapping  and  cracking,  horrible  to  hear. 
Earth's  future  hung  upon  one  sword,  one  spear; 
Two  men,  two  horses,  for  two  kings  contest. 
The  rhymers  tell  you  how  such  things  appear, 
'  Like  jaguar  and  lion  clutched  they  wrest, 
Till  Belisarius  clove  the  brave  Goth  through  the  crest.' 


107 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XV 

Their  leader  stricken,  still  we  should  have  lost 
Had  not  our  remnant  matched  our  general's  might. 
Willing  to  die,  but  win  at  any  cost. 
Ha!  ha!  with  such  new  courage  did  we  fight, 
The  Goths  thought  reinforcement  stopped  our  flight. 
Now  recognized  by  those  upon  the  wall, 
Above  the  gate  a  fire's  helpful  light 
Showed  piles  of  dead — fallen  horses'  human  stall — 
While  wounded  from  both  troops  for  friendly  succor 
call." 


XVI 

"  Few  entered  Rome  who  had,  at  dawn,  gone  out, 
And  they  crawled,  bowed  and  bloody,  helped  by  friends, 
Yet  still  had  breath  to  raise  the  victors'  shout. 
As  Belisarius  to  walls  attends, 
Builds  fires — for  light  better  than  arms  defends — 
Posts  guards,  bids  captains  not  to  leave  their  gate, 
Then  goes  to  bed — and  so  my  story  ends. 
No!  Bandalarius  found — a  hero's  fate! — 
Three  days    among  the  dead,   revived   and  serves  the 
state." 


108 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XVII 

The  story  done,  one  boy  with  eyes  ablaze, 

And  cheeks  aflame,  broke  the  hushed  awe  and  cried: 

"  I,  too,  have  seen  the  Balan  whom  you  praise. 

He  who  saved  Rome  and  tanned  the  Goths'  rough  hide, 

Was  my  dear  father.     Oft  I  used  to  ride 

Before  him,  clutching  in  his  horse's  mane." 

He  got  no  further,  for  with  arms  held  wide, 

The  blind  man  sprang,  eyes  staring,  but  in  vain, 

And  groping,  clasped  the  boy,  until  he  paled  with  pain. 


XVIII 

The  listening  boys  amazed  at  this  strange  sight 
And  living  in  the  scenes  that  filled  their  mind — 
Alarms,  death,  captures  of  that  famous  fight — 
In  fright  dashed  off,  and  mocking  called  behind: 
"  Old  crazy-man !     Boy-stealer !     Shamming  blind !  " 
At  any  rate  the  story  now  was  done, 
So  off  they  go  some  other  play  to  find, 
Or,  late  from  lingering,  to  their  mothers  run, 
And  Belisarius  leave,  clasping  his  long-lost  son. 


109 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XIX 

The  silent  soldier  babbled  like  a  nurse 

To  the  fond  ears  that  on  his  shoulder  lay, 

Recounting  all  the  stories  of  my  verse, 

The  weary  search  and  happenings  by  the  way. 

But  now  he  fears  the  world  and  its  bright  day 

Again  may  steal  his  sight — two  winning  eyes, 

And  funny  lips  to  laugh,  or  kiss  or  pray, 

That  gasped  out  "  Father  "  in  sharp,  dread  surprise. 

So  Belisarius  rose  to  flee  where  safety  lies. 


XX 

"  My  child, — my  life  and  wealth  and  honors, — all 

Old  age  from  love  and  deeds  has  harvested; 

You  raise  me  higher  than  men's  woes  can  fall. 

But  you  are  weary  and  your  curly  head 

Hangs  heavy  on  my  shoulder.     Have  you  said 

All  words  in  one,  blotting  the  past  from  ken? 

While  youth  like  Spring  is  all  about  me  shed, 

Sleep  till  we  meet  a  laughing  child,  and  then 

Thou'lt  catch,  perhaps,  the  trick  of  happiness  again.' 


110 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXI 

Above  a  city  gate  a  tower  rose, 

The  station  of  an  ancient  sentinel, 

Whose  wounded  limbs  in  age  found  there  repose. 

He  now  peered  forth  as  evening  shadows  fell. 

"  Ah,  dozing  age  has  cast  on  me  its  spell, 

With  dreams  of  youth  it  now  perplexes  me. 

Alas,  that  noble  form  I  once  knew  well. 

Tis  Belisarius,  in  truth,  I  see; 

And  in  his  arms  he  bears  a  lad  contentedly." 


XXII 

Down  from  his  station  crept  the  aged  man — 

With  limping  footsteps  even  haste  is  slow — 

But  cold  as  Scythian  streams  his  thin  blood  ran, 

For  on  the  boy's  bare  foot  an  asp's  eyes  glow. 

"  Great  chief !     O  mighty  general !     You  know 

Not  what  you  bear,  I  think,  unless  you  take 

The  child  to  burial  and  smile  at  woe. 

Blank  are  his  eyes  as  thine,  a  bright-eyed  snake 

Hath  charmed  his  lids  asleep,  nor  will  they  ever  wake." 


Ill 


The  Search  of  Belisarius 


XXIII 

"  Dead!    Do  my  wanderings  end  in  clasping  death? 

Dead!  I  could  hear  death  sung  by  chanting  choir, 

Or  trace  a  stone  that  told  he  lay  beneath. 

What  load  is  this  I  bear  ?    A  stringless  lyre, 

Whose  last  sweet  tones  among  the  stars  expire. 

What  do  I  bear?    Will  he  not  call  again? 

Surely  it  was  his  voice  I  heard  inquire. 

Must  that  one  word  console  my  heart's  long  pain  ? 

In  life's  confusion  could  not  that  small  voice  remain? 


XXIV 

"  I  heard  his  voice  and  his  eyes  saw  me  come — 
I  kissed  his  lips  and  bore  him  on  my  breast. 
God!  such  a  treasure  can  a  worm  steal  from 
A  father's  arms  ?    Must  this,  then,  end  my  quest, 
My  jewel  lost  while  I  the  casket  pressed? 
What  form  is  it  I  feel,  heavy  and  cold? 
O  may  I  not  still  bear  you  in  your  rest  ? 
No,  as  you  sleep  your  limbs  I  cannot  hold; 
In  this  long  night  the  green  earth  must  her  child  en- 
fold. 


112 


The  Search  of  Eelisarius 


XXV 

"  A  mother's  softness  should  embrace  you  now, 

Her  hungry  eyes  feed  famished  on  your  face, 

Her  lips  a  last  time  kiss  this  chilly  brow, 

Her  hands  caress  this  marble  cheek's  spent  grace; 

Instead,  poor  child,  you  have  my  blind  embrace. 

With  joy  she  bore  you  quickening  to  the  birth; 

Now  dead  I  bear  you  to  a  funeral  place. 

My  heavy  woe  and  her  tear-conquering  mirth, 

Alike  yield  you  to  God  who  knows  your  tongueless  worth'. 


XXVI 

"  No  more  shall  blood  of  mine  battle  with  life, 
Nor  in  the  times  to  come  mix  in  fierce  fight 
For  king  or  state.     No  fair-faced  maid  or  wife 
Shall  stretch  to  you  white  arms,  strong  with  delight, 
Or  weave  dark  webs,  when  love  has  taken  flight. 
The  sun  and  moon  no  more  shall  bless  my  seed; 
Nor  will  I  wish  the  dead  have  power  of  sight, 
To  see  men  wayfaring.     So  ends  my  breed; 
From  it  shall  come,  while  the  world  lasts,  no  word,  no 
deed." 


113 


The  Search  of  BeUsarius 


XXVII 

Beneath  the  wall  they  loosed  a  massive  stone. 
The  slender  form,  wrapped  in  a  mantle  white, 
They  there  entombed  with  many  a  piteous  moan, 
As  one  by  one  the  stars  came  with  the  night. 
Then  sought  they  both  the  tower's  lonely  height. 
Some  say  that  Belisarius  rested  there, 
Till  to  the  child  his  spirit  took  its  flight. 
Some  say  Justinian  thither  did  repair, 
Repentant,  bowed,  to  comfort  him  with  loving  care. 


THE    END 


n, 


It 


m 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


4MKNOV19  19! » 


I    3 
S    a. 


Q  Ai 

g       | 

^     5 


3  1158  01081  8150 

Jji3jmv  iur'  *'Mi<\\ 


tOF-CA 


<     | 

S    1 


E-UNIVERS/A.' 


%«*p 

%BAI 


|/fti 
^    s 


i  t1 


^  — 

%JQAINrf 


£ 


iJIWJ-JO'1 


:OF-CAtlFO%.       ^OF-CA 

IW^I  IU 


